


Impenitent

by DLoss



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, I'm Going to Hell, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Jeremy is too gay for this, Multi, Slow Burn, Sort of? - Freeform, Why not join me?, unhealthy life habits, violence in lieu of character development
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:25:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12175962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DLoss/pseuds/DLoss
Summary: Jeremy is just trying to survive in a city that thrives on dragging people through the meat grinder. And with things the way they are, he needs to do more than fix cars at a downtown shop to get by. At least he's good at climbing buildings and breaking into houses.There's always work for thieves in Los Santos.But no-one is ever happy to see him. Especially once he runs afoul of the Fakes.





	1. Prologue

They say that the shadows of Los Santos creep deeper than bones.

Everything that started there, moved in or was born slowly eroded over the years. Beaten and worn and stripped of any veneer or pretence so that the surface was laid bare to the city. Its people, its places and, of course, its crime. Nothing was spared the shadows of the Twisted City. And deep within the folds of the shade, Los Santos thrived.

It was a city that existed in more than its streets, but within its citizens and laws and underworlds. And, for a city that lived entirely amid shades of grey, it was a city of extremes.

The low price of living and the high turnover of rental housing dragged in people lost to the tides of life. The homeless, the tempest-tost and the truly free. They fed through the grinder of low level crime, of maintaining the twisted but vital socio-economic gaps and of providing the ever hungry city with meat for the slaughter.

On the other side of the coin, though, the beaches, beautiful hills and high potential for business and film production dragged Americas rich and famous into the city limits. They bought hotels and movie lots and houses on hillsides. They plugged the economy full of money and let what little was left drift down to the streets below.

Los Santos was a city, for all its nuance, of victims and abusers.

If you aren’t one, you’re the other.

And there must always come a time to choose.


	2. Ch 1 - Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy takes a job that looks sketchy from all sides, because he needs the money. 
> 
> He runs into some problems.

The penthouse apartment that topped the downtown Los Santos high rise was dark and quiet in these early hours of the morning.

And it took Jeremy what felt like too much time to clear each room before he could start doing what he was here for; thieving.

The job Charlie had brought him had already run into problems. The fire escape had been alarmed and the door had had an infrared detector he’d had to avoid and the apartment itself was a little more sprawling that the man had told him. So, by the time Jeremy had located the correct cupboard containing the safe Charlie had hired him to empty, he was already running behind.

He would have muttered angrily about Charlie and his shoddy fucking intel, or about whoever this apartment belonged to and their paranoia about being robbed but he was concerned about his noise levels. Well, in fairness, the paranoia was clearly justified. But still, alarming the fire escape and making him climb up the last five floors using the windows and balconies? Rude. Luckily he used to be a gymnast, or he would have been fucked. (Also: lucky they lived in an old building that wasn’t pure glass)

The bedroom was lit only by the light pouring in from the moon and street light outside, and lounge to his left was only lit by the lights of the clock and TV, an eerie dark blue. Between that and the dark carpet and upholstery Jeremy was perfectly camouflaged in the black Henley and pants he’d made his side-job uniform.

Jeremy didn’t dare use a white torch, so instead flicked his headlamp over to the dullest red he could get to that the keypad of the safe was clear to see. No light up screen on this or anything, this guy was old school, but not so much as to have a combination safe.

Which was a shame, Jeremy could have used the practice.

But Jeremy already knew the code, or at least Charlie had assured him this code would work. How this guys’ cleaning company had figured it out was beyond him.

He held his breath as he punched in the six-digit code. After a long, tense and silent few seconds the door clicked and popped open. No alarm sounded and no confirmation light went up so Jeremy assumed he was in the clear. For now.

Within the safe was stacks of hard drives. Jeremy didn’t know what was on them, and he didn’t want to know. He’d pointedly stopped Charlie ahead of telling him as well. Whoever lived here was tracking something for bad people and it was risky enough to cross bad people in Los Santos without crossing them knowingly. Though, he honestly hadn’t thought a Mob IT guy would have such security as he seemed to, so maybe Jeremy had been misled.

A little late to concern himself now.

He loaded the hard drives into the sports bags, shoving them into the layers of towel he’d packed to allow him to travel silent with twenty 2-terabyte hard drives slung over his shoulder.

He loaded the last one in, considered taking the pile of cash behind them and then paused.

On the shelf below was a small stack of passports. By the dull red light it was hard to tell, but they looked like they were different colours. He reached out, considering getting a look at this guy, but hesitated.

Too many things were already wrong with this job. He needed to get clear before more went wrong.

Then, as if the universe had needed a cue, he heard the sound of the door opening to the apartment.

Jeremy froze for a second, hoping that the occupant was just picking something up. Knowing that if he made a sound now he’d never get to the front door to get out. The fire escape was through the same lounge that the front door opened into, so either way he was fucked.

And as good as his gymnastics skills were; they were not sharp enough to jump off a balcony and catch himself before falling to his death. A few years ago, maybe he would have been fine. But not today.

He really needed to work out more.

His hopes of a clean get away were dashed when the lights flicked on seconds later, the sound of keys hitting a bowl and something heavy landing on a table. Jeremy blinked his vision clear as they adjusted to the light pouring in from the lounge and he, carefully, stood and moved slightly to stay in shadow.

The figure in the other room stopped moving and Jeremy grimaced, thinking there was no way he could have heard-

The lights flicked off again and Jeremy was confused right up until he heard a safety catch being released.

His heart sped up instantly, his vision and hearing became hyper focussed on the movements outside the bedroom door. He needed to remove the gun from the equation, preferably knock this guy out, and get the fuck out of here. At least the darkness meant the guy wouldn’t get a good look at him.

“You’ve fucked up.” The guy said from the other room, voice rough like he was forcing a growl into it at the back of his throat. Jeremy couldn’t place the accent, but stayed silent, moving slightly to have a clear path to the door.

“This is the wrong house to be in, Thief.” The man added, sounding slightly closer. “If you surrender now I might not shoot you.” He offered, almost as an afterthought.

Jeremy almost laughed at the idea. Sure, Los Santos criminals were known to be very forgiving when they had been robbed.

Then he saw the dark silhouette of the weapon advance into the space in front of the door. The guy must not be sure where he was, because it looked like he was covering the lounge like a professional before moving on to the bedroom.

Jeremy moved.

He sprinted forwards; even as he watched the black shape spin towards him. He caught the guy around the middle, _shit was he solid_ , and took him to the floor. Jeremy found the gun with his right hand as he moved back to his feet and, using the man’s surprise against him, tore the weapon away from him and threw it across the apartment. He heard it skidding and bouncing off the tiles of the bathroom.

He spun back towards his bag, he needed to move quickly if he hoped to get out of this clean, and three paces later something caught his ankle and he crashed into the floor. He rolled instantly, kicking out with his foot and catching the man in the chest. The guy grunted in pain and went back a step and Jeremy had to roll to the side to avoid the man slamming a boot into his nuts as he stumbled awkwardly to his feet.

In the moonlight, he found the guy moving forward, a punch ready to meet his face, barely redirected as Jeremy threw his guard up around his head and steadied his stance. He lashed out with a punch of his own, his one-two combination both off their mark, and followed through with a kick that the guy checked with his hip. The man kept moving forward through his kick and a fist landed in Jeremy’s arm as it shielded his jaw. Off balance; Jeremy stumbled backwards, hitting the corner of the bed and using the momentum to spin away, gain some space.

_Shit_. The guy was now between him and his bag and, more importantly, the door and fire escape. He was a big guy, though Jeremy couldn’t tell much in the moonlight other than his long hair was pulled taut behind his head and his eyes shone at him from his shadowed face. The man squared himself, facing Jeremy as if knowingly blocking his escape.

He was so fucked.

The other guy tilted his head and the sound of his neck cracking chilled Jeremy far more than it should have.

He steeled himself, tried to ignore his heart pounding in his ears. He was a thief, this had happened before. He only needed to make enough time to get out.

He advanced on the man, moving through the paces between them quickly so that his combination would land and, after that, he hoped his Uchi Mata would work as planned.

The guy wore his cross and Jeremy felt great about it until he shoved forwards, his arm dropping around Jeremy’s ribs and the guy lifted and spun.

Jeremy was short, for sure 5”4’ was not tall in any way, but he was not tiny. He was broad and his years of gymnastics had gifted him with a muscular frame. Even if he hadn’t been carrying the few extra pounds he was self-conscious about, he was not small.

But this guy lifted and spun and Jeremy was off his feet and going backwards with what seemed like minimal effort. He smashed into the wall and pain snarled across his back and through his head with a dazing effect. His lungs emptied of air and then complained about it, loudly, and Jeremy was barely able to catch himself on his feet.

In the three seconds it took for him to register that he was still conscious and in pain, the guy had slammed into him, pinning him against the plaster. Jeremy’s face was forced sideways with the guys elbow into his jaw, hand fisting into the collar of his shirt, and a knee against his own, pinning his leg and hips.

And, even while Jeremy was struggling to breathe and find a way to effectively fight, the sensation of a knife against his throat was sudden and obvious. He paused, his hand gripping the wrist threatening him and the other one shoving into this guy’s chest, trying to gain any space he could find.

They were panting, breathing hard in each other’s space and for a long moment they struggled in mostly silence, grunts and half uttered expletives whispered as they fought over the position.

It would have been intimate had the guy pinning Jeremy to the wall not been so clearly keen to kill him. Jeremy might have, in another situation, made a terrible joke filled with innuendo. But his brain was busy scrambling for a plan, for purchase while his lungs burned from being emptied. He felt dazed and off balance and shoving at the pin was not helping.

The guy was as broad as him but a foot, or more, taller. He was dense with muscle under the tee he was wearing, but seemed a lot more actively fit than Jeremy, who had been skimming by on his baseline fitness for a while now. So, a moment later Jeremy swore, unable to find a way out of the pin; the knife pressed hard into his jugular. He stilled, knowing that the guy would lose patience eventually and just make his point with the sharp end of the knife.

Jeremy was still pressed to look sideways, so he couldn’t see the man’s face, only the edge of his shoulder, and he was almost glad when the man spoke again.

“Unless you want to see what a carotid blood spray looks like: I recommend you tell me who sent you.” He growled, his voice gravelly, low, calm and so deadly fucking serious that it sent chills down Jeremy’s usually fortified spine. Jeremy stayed silent, realising that at some point during their struggling his hand had landed somewhere near the man’s hip, his fingers resting against something that Jeremy realised very suddenly he recognised.

It was a taser. A smaller, more compact version of the type of taser that the LSPD carried and avoided using. He needed an opening.

“You hearing me, shorty?” The man asked. Jeremy made a noise of disapproval.

“Shorty?” He grunted, offended. “Seriously?”

“Some part of this feel like a joke?” The guy asked, amusement playing on his voice, still eerily calm. Jeremy wanted to come back with something terrible (probably about dicks) but bit his tongue and instead shook his head slightly, as much as he could.

“Fine, Christ.” He grunted, allowing his tone to relent, relaxing into the pin slightly, giving himself some breathing space. The guy mirrored him, loosening the elbow against his jaw slightly, making it easier for him to speak. The knee against his leg, pinning his hips from moving, moved back slightly, probably letting the guy concentrate on watching him talk in the dark, trying to assess how serious he was being.

Jeremy took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as if preparing himself to share. Instead, as he felt the guy’s head tilt back to listen, he grabbed for the taser, freeing it from its holster, shoving his shoulder forward into the chest against him, moving bodily away from the knife with the space. He felt the man moving to brace himself, and twisted back, slamming his knee up into the guys crotch. The bigger man let out the air in his lungs with a whine of pain and instinctively went backwards. Jeremy turned and pushed off the wall and assisted the guy by shoving his boot violently into the man’s stomach.

The guy stumbled onto his ass, and Jeremy had fired the taser before the laser targeting had finished lighting up his chest.

He heard it fire, the tell-tale clicking echoing around the silent bedroom. Jeremy knew he had seconds. The guy growled out loud on the floor, trying to force himself into getting up despite the electricity making him go rigid. Jeremy, still holding the taser, stepped around him to throw his bag over his shoulder. As he backed to the lounge the clicking stopped and, for a few seconds, the guy stared at him as Jeremy watched him try to recover.

They shared their gaze in the dark of the room for a few seconds before he moved to pull the pins from his chest and Jeremy fired, the wires transmitting their shock again. He dropped it and sprinted as the apartments owner snarled through the pain.

He barrelled through the front door, into the brightly lit hallway beyond and knew he wouldn’t have time to take the elevator when he heard crashing behind him. He headed for the stairs, getting into the stairwell and barely stopping to check the drop before he went over the side of the railing and jumping to the landing below. He hit the concrete hard, his knees complaining as he rolled it off. But he couldn’t stop and think about his lack of fitness now.

He repeated the process, clearing five floors of stairs before the door flinging open echoed down the brick stair well. Jeremy didn’t stop to look up, he kept going, flinging himself over railings and letting himself drop down onto the landings. He could hear the banging of the boots down the stairs. Jeremy’s heart was still racing, his breathing was coming in gasps and his knees were nearly at the point of breaking.

Five floors to go.

He had expected the man to yell after him, but nothing followed him except for the sounds of pursuit. Jeremy was half glad of it, because he’d never been able to resist banter, and was currently too out of breath to even consider it.

He jumped down the last floor, rolling to his feet and spending a precious few seconds fighting for air. He struggled to get his knees and quads to move, as if running through water, to roll into a sprint out into the parking garage. He headed for the street where he’d left the motorcycle he’d ‘ _borrowed’_ from the shop.

By the time he’d made it to the street he felt like his lungs were on fire, and his muscles were following quickly. His chest was heaving even as he slowed to free the keys from his pocket, skidding to a stop as he mounted the seat, kicking the stand as the engine fired and the headlight flicked on to light up a figure rolling to their feet after landing from the terrace above.

Jeremy froze for a second.

Even without the police spreading wanted posters and warnings throughout Los Santos, even without his tell-tale jacket and the crew he rolled with when the mood struck, Jeremy recognised The Vagabond.

He’d paused at some point, it seemed, to pull on the mask after their struggle in the apartment. His tee dotted in two places with dark blood from the taser prongs, chest heaving with the exhaustion of the chase and his hands fisted in anger.

And even from across the road, already on a motorbike revving to warm, Jeremy was terrified of the man. The Vagabond went to move, to cross the road, and Jeremy kicked the bike into gear and was hitting sixty miles an hour five seconds later. In the bikes mirror he watched The Vagabond run a short distance behind him and then slow to a stop. He made no signal or sign after him as Jeremy peeled around a corner and lost him from sight. But his squared shoulders and steady form had filled Jeremy with the kind of dread he hadn’t had since he had fucked his gymnastic teams’ shot at Nationals.

As he raced back towards the garage and onward to finish this job he was still struggling to recover from the numbing shock of the encounter, he could still hear his heart racing over the sound of the 650cc engine roaring beneath him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> I struggled with the violence in this chapter, and I often do if the narrating character doesn't know names or can't see. Hope it was comprehensible, please let me know of anything that needs clarification.


	3. Ch 2 - Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy needs to sort out his mess of a job and then wind down. 
> 
> His mind visits some interesting places.

Hogs Head was usually calm, for a bar. Especially a bar that had long been twisted into a classic place for Los Santos. Full of criminals and hushed plans and unfriendly people. It served barely tolerable alcohol, hosted probably illegal gambling and its music was pointedly louder than conversation. Patrons usually moved as if they had something to hide, spoke like they were trying to avoid being overheard and drank like they had an open tab under someone else’s name.

So, when Jeremy flung the door open, anger already burning through his veins, less than an hour after nearly being murdered by Los Santos’ most prolific hit man, the bar sort of paused to look at him with surprise and suspicion.

He ignored their looks and their hands that hovered over their not-so-concealed weapons and stormed through the bar, heading to the corner where Charlie ran his very-legally-grey intel market. When he came to a stop at the edge of the table, standing in silent fury, Charlie ended the conversation happening with the woman sitting in the booth.

She glanced at him, raised an eyebrow and looked between them for a moment. She laughed and stood.

“I’ll leave you to it.” She muttered and moved out of the booth and passed Jeremy as she left. “Try not to kill him,” she added, “I do need him later.”

Jeremy didn’t reply, barely glancing at the young woman as she vanished, instead choosing to focus his energy at Charlie.

“Tim!” Charlie said, addressing him by the alias he worked under, forcing a smile despite the fact Jeremy was glaring at him. “You’ve succeeded I see. No issues I hope?”

Jeremy tilted his head and leaned his hands onto the table and spoke in a low, pointed tone.

“Issues?” He snarled. “I _guess_ you could say that. Like the fact you assured me the fire escape would be clean, but I still had to climb up _five floors_ of fucking window sills. Or like you said the balcony would be a clean entry point despite the IF sensor _all over the door_. Or how you said it was a _corner apartment_ and not a _penthouse suite_.” Charlie’s face was slowly draining of colour, his expression moving from forced happy over annoyance toward concern. “ _Or,_ ” Jeremy went on, “how you said he was definitely going to be out of town.”

Charlie sucked air in through his teeth and looked around the vicinity to ensure it was clear.

“He was _there?_ ” He demanded quietly.

“He turned up just after I emptied the safe.” Jeremy made a dismissive motion with his hand. “And I definitely don’t recall being hired to rob _The Fucking Vagabond!_ ”

Charlie looked like he had been caught at the wrong end of a con and Jeremy’s anger surged. He stood straight and swung the bag off his shoulder and dumped it on the table.

“Three.” He said. “Or I fucking take these back to the Fakes, and considering they currently hold Vagabonds leash I’m sure they’d be _real fucking interested_.”

“They’d kill you.” Charlie hissed, equally angry perhaps but only half as threatening. “We agreed on one.”

“You undersold the job five ways to Sunday and nearly _got me thrown off a high rise.”_ Jeremy growled. “And there’s no fucking way we’re coming off this clean. Three thousand.” Jeremy demanded. “And you lose my number.”

Charlie glowered at him for a long few minutes.

“Just be glad it was dark.” Jeremy added. “I doubt he has a good description of me.”

“Other than you’re short as fuck and good at climbing buildings?” Charlie sniped in reply. “Sure, you’ll be super hard to track down.”

“It took you four months.” Jeremy sneered. “I’m not asking you to wire me money, Charlie. Cash. Now.”

Charlie shook his head, muttering to himself in annoyance, and reached into the bag on his seat and withdrew six bundles of notes and dumped them on the table.

“Phone.” Jeremy demanded, holding his hand out. Charlie complied begrudgingly and Jeremy quickly found his number, listed under Tim the Cat guy, and deleted it. Then he deleted their call history and messaging threads and tossed the phone back at Charlie. He grabbed the wads of fifties and folded them into his pocket. Charlie pulled the bag towards him and unzipped the top to look at the hard drives.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” Charlie said dryly.

“It really wasn’t.” Jeremy noted. “You’re sloppy as dicks, man, and you should rethink your career path. Give my regard to the Fakes when they trace this back to you.” He turned and left, barely glimpsing the venomous glare that Charlie sent after him as he walked back through bar and out onto the street.

The spring had left the evening cool as he rounded the corner to where Matt had parked and got in the passenger seat with a sigh. Matt looked up from his phone.

“Have fun?”

“Well, I’m not dead yet.” Jeremy muttered. Matt laughed and started the car.

“Do I want to know?” He asked, pulling onto the street and heading back to their apartment complex.

“No.” Jeremy assured him. “And don’t ask or remember anything about it, either. If this doesn’t come back to bite me I’ll be very fucking surprised.”

Matt glanced at him, concern on his face, and looked back at the road.

“You going to be okay?” He asked. Jeremy shrugged.

“Probably.” He admitted. “I’m just pissed off. And tired.”

“It is three am.” Matt nodded. “Almost bed time.”

Jeremy groaned.

“I’m opening the shop tomorrow.” He complained.

“When aren’t you?” Matt laughed.

“I’m going to have the clean the fuck outta that bike, too.” He added. “I worked the shit out of the gear box.”

Mat shook his head.

“You going to buy your own at some point?” He asked. Jeremy shrugged, mentally tracking his funds and the costs he was keeping paid with his side job. His personal expenses weren’t the issue, his job at the garage kept that afloat, just. But the cost of keeping his mother in the nursing home was considerable, and much of the three grand in his pocket would be going towards that and new toiletries and clothes for her. Then there was the medication for his brothers’ kid that they could barely afford.

“Don’t think I’ll have enough.” Jeremy shrugged. Matt frowned in reply, but stayed silent. He looked at Matt, his friend quietly driving. Calm in the street light, his glasses reflecting the dash board.

“Thank you for the ride, Matt.” He said.

“No problem.” Matt shrugged. “Anytime, Jeremy. You know that.”

“You want to come over?” Jeremy asked, adding a pointed lilt to his voice, resting his hand on Matts forearm. Matt smiled and glanced away from the road to grin at him.

“I thought you were exhausted and hurting.” Matt said pointedly.

“You’re the one that said ‘no dumb excuses’, remember?” Jeremy laughed. “Friends with benefits, not friends who make excuses not to have sex.” He quoted Matts words back at him. “I mean, if you want to. I might have to shower, though, because I just sprinted down a fifteen-story building and had an argument in the dingiest bar in Los Santos.”

Matt drove in silence for a while.

“You’re hurt.” He said after a while. “You need to rest.” Jeremy frowned at him and rubbed the back of his head absently, where he could feel bruising forming. He didn’t push the point further, Matt was worried about him and Jeremy _was_ fucking exhausted. Everything was going to hurt tomorrow.

He could already feel the ache coming on.

 

Jeremy spent too long under the hot spray of his shower, trying desperately to wash off both the ache from the evening and the distinct feeling he had just fucked up.

As in, fucked up royally.

Crossing the Fake AH crew was not something someone did. They had been around for a little under ten years, risen to be one of the most commanding presences in crime in Los Santos, and started taking smaller gangs under their wing, making their allies some of the most well connected people in the city.

As a working thief and a long time Los Santos resident, Jeremy knew the lay of the land. He knew better than to cross the Fakes.

Now the Vagabond would be looking for him. Charlie was right. He was a short ass thief who scaled buildings.

Sure, there were many thieves in the city. But the Vagabond hadn’t seemed like the kind of man who’d shy away from working through every single one of them until he recognised him.

But he had long since learned to take precautions. He worked under a pseudonym, he never worked with people more than a couple of times, constantly changed numbers and got most of his work through confidential web applications.

But the ache of being slammed into a wall and punched in the face put him on edge a little. He’d felt relatively safe that Vagabond wouldn’t have killed him until they’d made their way back to Charlie, but was very sure that he’d have been hurt in the process.

And not in a fun way.

Which would have been a shame.

Jeremy was sitting at the end of a minor dry streak, only getting with Matt a few weeks ago. He liked Matt, but he was getting to be in the mood for something a little rougher. He hadn’t bottomed in what felt like forever and the bruise on his face was the first mark anyone had put on him in a long time.

He groaned and got out of the shower, warm and relaxed from the water and barely dried before collapsing onto his bed in his towel.

He was warm and comfortable but felt strung out and stressed.

He rolled onto his back, staring at his ceiling and trying to ignore the clock ticking over to 4am.

He touched his jaw, causing discomfort more than pain, and clenched his teeth. Minor pain, nothing serious.

Jeremy had never spent a considerable amount of time thinking about what the Vagabond would look like. He hadn’t really considered how big a guy that waded through bodies would have to be.

He wasn’t sure if knowing that The Vagabond was essentially a wall of muscle was a good thing. He wasn’t sure if knowing that the most dangerous man in Los Santos had essentially picked him up and thrown him like a doll was scary as hell or the most arousing thing Jeremy had thought about in a while.

(It _should_ be the former. But it really wasn’t.)

Jeremy jumped half a mile when the door to his room opened and Matt almost tripped through the door.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Jeremy snarled, sitting up so fast it was dizzying.

“Hey.” Matt said, shutting the door behind him. “My housemate-” He paused on seeing Jeremy naked. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting?” He said smugly.

Jeremy sighed, to tired and horny to be angry.

“Yeah, you kinda are.” He replied, not bothering to cover up.

“Sorry.” Matt shrugged, rounding the bed to the other side of the mattress to Jeremy. “Trevor is cramming for an exam and blasting music. I’m sleeping here.”

“Matt…” Jeremy sighed.

“It’s ok, you can still jack off. I’ll just watch.” He shrugged, shucking his jeans and shirt and crawling under the covers that Jeremy was still laying on. Tilting the pile of Jeremy’s clothes dangerously to the side.

“You could help.” Jeremy suggested, leaning down to get his lube out of the drawer and sit it on the nightstand.

“I could.” Matt agreed. “But I’m not going to.”

Jeremy sighed and gave him a look as the man settled into the bed.

“Come on.” Matt nodded. “Carry on. Whatcha thinking about?”

Jeremy looked away from him, choosing instead to slick up his hand with the almost cold liquid.

“Okay, wont ask.” Matt muttered, shifting under the covers and drawing them closer to him. Jeremy was already half hard and the weight of Matt’s gaze didn’t do anything to quell the desire to touch himself. Though his exhaustion made him relax back into the pillows and close his eyes.

_Vagabond looming over him. The smell of sweat and leather and gunpowder. The feeling of being pinned to the wall, completely powerless to escape for a long few minutes._

He grasped the base of his cock, ignoring the slightly cool lube, and ran his hand upwards and had to let out a deep breath while enjoying the sensation.

_“Some part of this seem like a joke?” Vagabond had growled at him, voice low and rough like he was forcing it._

_“Depends, you have a spare mag in your pocket?” Jeremy had wanted to reply. “Or you just happy to see me?”_

He didn’t know if the Vagabond was into guys. He hadn’t got the impression he had much of a sense of humour, either, but Jeremy was already committed to the scenario, his cock warming and firming in his hand as he massaged it. He moved on the bed slightly, lifting his knee and using his foot to shift his hips to move further onto the pillows.

_Vagabonds’ knee was already between his legs, but pressed harder against him as Jeremy had spoken. Pressing hard into his groin and Jeremy would have groaned at the slight discomfort and pressure._

_“Dick jokes?” Vagabonds serious and calm reply probably would have been. “Really?” The knife was still against his neck, Jeremy trying to control the hand holding it and his other hand still pressing into the wall of muscle that was Vagabonds chest._

_“Yeah, it’s what I do.” Jeremy would admit with a grunt._

_“As well as stealing.” Vagabond noted, his voice lowering slightly. “Seem like a good idea still?”_

_“Still feels like you’re happy to see me.” Jeremy joked, twisting slightly, trying to use his weight to get free, but Vagabonds thigh pressed harder against his groin, almost lifting his toes off the floor._

_“I’m not.” Vagabond admitted. “But it feels like you might be.”_

_Jeremy knew he was hard, knew he shouldn’t be, but had nowhere to move to hide the fact from the thigh holding him against the wall._

_“Was this your plan?” Vagabond wondered. “Get caught mid theft and get lucky?_

_“Every plan needs to be flexible.” Jeremy replied, already knowing that was a dumb thing to say._

In fairness he’d been off his game ever since having to climb up five floors of balconies.

“Get it together, Dooley.” Jeremy muttered to himself through his teeth, arching his hips a little, still enjoying the sensation of his hand up and down his cock. He could feel the lube starting to run down over his testicles and onto his thighs, moving in between his ass cheeks.

_“How true.” Vagabond growled. The knife was gone, the thigh moved back and then Jeremy was hauled forward and tried to make a half-hearted escape before being spun and slammed face first into the wall._

_His head spun a little, pain in his jaw and chest already and then the weight of The Vagabonds hand between his shoulder blades flattened him to the wall._

_Then the other hand was searching, running over his shoulders and down his sides, looking for weapons. Jeremy tried to push off from the wall, turn to lose the weight of the hand, only to be rewarded with a the Vagabond grasping a handful of hair to slam his face against the wall. He growled in pain._

_“Stay.” Vagabond ordered._

_“I don’t carry weapons.” Jeremy argued, shifting uncomfortably under his searching hands. The hand stopped and reached into his left pocket and retrieved the latch knife._

_“No?”_

_“That’s for door locks.” Jeremy admitted. The sound of it hitting the carpet a second later was somehow a relief. Then Vagabond reached around him, searching his other pocket and continuing to his groin. His grip was hard, sudden and uncomfortable. Jeremy sucked in a breath of discomfort and pain._

_“And this?” Vagabond growled quietly into his ear. “What’s this for?”_

Jeremy groaned out loud. He really hoped he never met Vagabond again, or he’d never get through the confrontation without a boner. The grip on his cock paused for a moment, firmed around his shaft and he flexed his body into it.

_Jeremy was on his knees, pressed against the end of the mattress he’d bounced off earlier. He was naked, left over pain in his scalp and chest. Vagabonds denim covered thighs trapping him against the bed and his cock freed from his jeans. The room was still dark, Jeremy couldn’t make out the Vagabonds face, but the cock pressing against his check pointedly was taking up much of his focus._

_“What was that you said about plans?” Vagabond asked, his hand reaching under his jaw and angling his head upwards, fingers pressing into his cheeks between his teeth. “Something about being flexible?”_

_Jeremy opened his mouth, growling in pain, hands pushing against the strong thighs trapping him against the mattress. Vagabonds cock was in his mouth seconds later the heavy, slightly salty head sitting on his tongue. Jeremy barely had time to move before the man pressed forwards, his hand gripping his hair to keep his head still as he pressed his cock towards the back of Jeremy’s mouth._

_Jeremy resisted the urge to suck and swallow and lick. He knew this was wrong…_

_“Come on, little thief.” Vagabond teased. “I know you want to.”_

_Jeremys’ mouth was too occupied to reply, but he knew it was true. He gave up resisting and firmed his lips around the mans cock and sucked it down, trying to move forward but trapped by the hand pulling his hair._

_Instead Vagabond pressed his cock into his mouth slowly._

Jeremy’s fingers tasted like soap and lube as he pressed them into his mouth, creating a heavy pressure against his lips and tongue as he continued to jack his cock, still slow paced and gentle. He knew how to suck a cock well, but had always wondered what it would feel like to have a cock forced into his mouth. The sensation of his mouth and throat being full, fighting down the urge to gag and being unable to breathe properly. The desperate fight to produce as much saliva as possible to coat the cock with some sort of lubricant.

_With a handful of hair and his overbearing strength Vagabond had shoved him onto the bed, trapping him even as he tried to escape, one arm twisted behind his back under Vagabonds’ weight, and the sensation of Vagabond kneeling behind him. His bare ass in the air, spread and ready for Vagabond to use however he liked._

_He doubted Vagabond was a kind lover. He doubted he’d get prep under his hands, he doubted that there would be more lube than whatever Jeremy had provided with his mouth._

_So, when Vagabonds cock pressed against his tight hole, Jeremy tensed._

Jeremy’s spit soaked fingers reached awkwardly past his other hand and collected as much lube from around his ass as he could. He moved slightly, curling to make it easier to reach, and pressed two fingers against his anus. He felt the resistance and pressed past it, groaning behind his teeth as the fingers popped inside him, pulling at his ring of muscles.

_Vagabond wasn’t gentle. His cock pressed inside him in one stroke, Jeremy growling in discomfort, feeling bruises form on his arm and the hip Vagabond was grasping._

_Vagabond held still for a moment, perhaps letting Jeremy adjust, but more likely letting himself get comfortable._

_As he pulled out Jeremy moaned into the duvet, tendrils of pleasure pooling in his lower back and abdomen. Vagabond didn’t seem to care, fucking into him in a steady rhythm, holding him firm and steady while he used his hole to get off._

Jeremy’s fingers pressed and pulled out from him, shallow and quick, and the hand gripping around his cock stuttered as it tried to speed up and pull firmer.

He came with a bitten off moan and a few expletives, feeling his come land on his hand and upper thigh, and froze for a second as his body shook with the orgasm.

He relaxed slightly on the bed, withdrawing his fingers gingerly and breathed heavily. He could feel the slight sheen of sweat he’d built up and wished he could just not move or care.

He groaned when he realised he probably needed another shower before he could sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, hope you enjoyed. Not much story wise happening here, but hope it worked for you. 
> 
> The italics are Jeremy's imagination, so if it seems to jump around a little, that's on purpose. No-one imagines a perfectly sequential situation.  
> Or at least, I don't. 
> 
> Feedback more than welcome. 
> 
> The next chapter is fighting me, but should be up in the next week.


	4. Ch 3 - Response

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan is pissed, the crew is surprised and someone better start talking before people get angry... Angrier

Ryan was furious and Geoff was confused. It was just gone three am and Ryan had lit up the mans penthouse with righteous anger and the strong desire to find the short-ass thief and put him through several windshields. He was still wearing the bloodied shirt and dumped his motorcycle jacket and helmet on the floor as Geoff, confused and mostly naked, stumbled out of bed swearing.

“What the fuck did you say?” Geoff was demanding, pulling pants on over his boxer briefs and rubbing sleep from his eyes. “When did you get back?”

“About three hours ago.” Ryan snarled, trying like hell to temper his anger. “And I said _they took the hard drives_.”

Geoff glared at him through his sleep deprived expression.

“Are you fucking serious?” He demanded, pulling his phone off its charger and marching past Ryan and headed into the ‘war room’. Ryan followed him as Geoff started dialling. “Who was it?”

“Don’t know him.” Ryan admitted in anger. “Some dumb ass thief.”

“That got away from you?” Geoff reproached and Ryan felt his jaw grind a little in annoyance.

“He was faster than I expected.”

“And you didn’t get a good look at him?”

“At two in the morning?” Ryan huffed. “No. He’s short, that’s about all I got. Smelt like grease, left on a motorcycle.”

“Short, motorcycle riding, grease monkey.” Geoff spat sullenly. “Narrows it down. Risinger!” He said into the phone, clearly calling one of the cops on their payroll. Ryan didn't bother telling Geoff this definately wasn't the cops. “Yes, I’m aware of the time, you fuck.” Ryan rolled his eyes as he heard Geoff’s pet detective snarling, annoyed into the line. “You guys aren’t selling any secrets without telling me, right? No under the table ops you didn’t tell me about?”

Paused confusion and a negative answer.

“Right.” Geoff sighed. “I’ll tell you about it if I need to, sorry to wake you… You’re right, I’m not.” He hung up abruptly and looked at Ryan.

“Are you bleeding?”

“He tased me.” Ryan rolled his eyes. “Twice, the little shit.” Geoff raised an eyebrow.

“He brought a taser to steal from you?” Geoff frowned. “Did he know you were getting back tonight?”

Ryan hesitated and ran a hand over his tied back hair.

“Someone did, apparently. And he stole mine off my belt.” He muttered. Geoff laughed.

“Maybe we should hire him.” He joked, falling silent at the fuming look on Ryan’s face. “Well, should have hired him.” He clarified.

Ryan didn’t respond.

“Okay, I get it, you’re pissed.” Geoff muttered. “So, who knew where we were keeping the hard drives?”

“In theory? No-one.” Jack said as she walked into the room, looking at her phone, looking immaculate at the late – or early – hour.

“Jack?... What?”

“Ryan texted me.” She shrugged. “No-one outside of ours knew we made the backups.” She pointed out. “And I’m pretty sure we don’t have a leak.”

“Unless someone got Gavin drunk again.” Ryan growled. Geoff made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“He’s not _that_ dumb…” He assured them, unconvincingly.

“Geoff, call Michael and the others, we might need them to go scare up some info.” Jack said with a sigh. Geoff muttered something about being in charge and started dialling.

“Ryan, who would know about the hard drives?”

“No-one, unless there are bugs in my apartment.” Ryan admitted. “And there aren’t.”

“Okay, who knows where the safe is? Did the guy break in?”

“Couldn’t tell.” Ryan shrugged. “But there’s no marks or anything on the safe. No alarms went off, so maybe he guessed the code?”  
Jack made a suspicious face.

“He’s pissed, but he’s up. He’ll swing by Gavins and get the others up.” Geoff Said, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Does anyone know where the safe is, Ryan?” Jack pressed, ignoring Geoff. Ryan shifted in annoyance.

“The cleaners.” He muttered.

A moment of silence.

“You have cleaners?” Geoff said, confused.

“No.” Ryan sighed. “I had an… incident a few months ago.”

More silence.

“Someone broke in while I was home.” Ryan added, quietly.

Geoff and Jack glanced at each other. Then looked back at Ryan, waiting expectantly.

“I needed someone to clean.” Ryan said pointedly, crossing his arms.

“Riiiight…” Geoff nodded. “Connected?”

“I doubt it.” Ryan shrugged. “Was disconnecting the TV.”

“Alright.” Jack cleared her throat and avoiding Ryan’s gaze quickly. “So they might have seen the safe.”

“I had to pay them.” Ryan added. “So I had to open it.”

“So they could know the code?” Geoff frowned.

“They were in the other room.” Ryan shrugged.

A moment of contemplative quiet.

“So, a possibility.” Jack sighed. “Who did you use?”

“I went through Jimmy at Hogs Head.” Ryan admitted. Geoff frowned and flicked open his phone, going to his contacts.

“Charlie.” Jack said suddenly. Geoff considered it.

“Who’s Charlie?” Ryan frowned.

“He deals intel.” Jack explained. “Works out of Hogs. We used him a couple of times when we were younger. Don’t have a great relationship, and I wouldn’t think he’d cross us.”

Geoff made a disagreeing noise, sitting on his desk.

“If you offered that snake enough money he’d cross the fucking alps in flip flops.” Geoff spat.

“So, you’re not a fan.” Ryan mused.

“Shut up.” Geoff growled. “You killed a kid and let idiots into your apartment. I’ve been telling you to move for months.”

Ryan shrugged, didn’t offer an apology or explanation.

“But he’d need to be offered a lot of money.” Geoff added after a few calming breaths. “He’s dumb, not suicidal.”

“Then I guess the question is: who would throw a whole lot of money at getting hard drives with cash flow and corporate data on them?” Jack said pointedly.

“Why don’t we ask this _Charlie_?” Ryan suggested darkly. Geoff sighed in agreement.

“I’ll call Michael and get him to do a pick up.”

“I’ll go and get my work clothes.” Ryan agreed, turning and walking out of the room, ignoring Jack’s uncomfortable gaze.

 

Charlie must have been exactly where they thought, and on the way for Michael, because by the time Ryan had found his spare jacket and mask in the workshop in the basement of the high-rise, rang and left a message for his landlord that he’d be out of the apartment in the next week and headed back up to the penthouse the others were already down in the clean room.

Before Geoff had acquired the high-rise through some… questionable means, the top floor that was now a five bedroom penthouse had been a restaurant. The floor downstairs from it had hosted the kitchen, including two express elevators for servers, great ventilation as well as impeccable sound proofing to avoid disturbing the diners.

So, while Geoff had had the upstairs remodelled, they pulled the kitchen apart and been left with a couple of huge spaces that were well drained, isolated and able to be hosed clean.

They didn’t often have the need to get very messy, but every once in a while someone went too far, even by their standards, and things had got… out of hand.

He found Geoff talking to man sitting in a chair they’d dragged to the middle of the cement room. He wasn’t restrained, by the look, and Geoff was standing over him, hands on hips and frowning as the man assured him he had no idea what he was talking about.

Ryan approached from the elevator, behind the chair and passed Michael leaning on the wall, playing on his phone. He didn’t know where Jack, Gavin or Ray were.

Ryan rounded the chair and stood next to Geoff. They hadn’t been going long, because Charlie had no blood on his face yet.

Charlie was a small guy, slender and pale faced, though he looked like he was slightly Latino from his hair and eyes. Hard to tell by the half-lit-for-dramatic-effect room.

The intel dealer looked at Ryan as he stopped beside his boss and sucked in a breath through his teeth and tensed. He gripped the arm rests of the chair and spent a long, silent moment looking between Geoff and Ryan.

“Who did you send to my apartment?” Ryan asked, his throat already raw from talking all day, but his growl was no less in place for that.

“No-one.”

Ryan moved forward slightly, hearing Geoff sigh behind him. Geoff moved away, circling so that he was out of Charlies’ eye-line.

“Charlie.” Ryan said, almost quietly. “Cut the shit. Who?”

Charlie made a slight scoffing noise he barely managed to cover with a cough. Ryan didn’t move, angling his head very pointedly.

“He said the Fakes held your leash now-a-days.” Charlie told him, quiet and venomous.

Ryan flinched forward, barely restraining himself from breaking his jaw, and Charlie jolted backwards in his seat. Michael looked up from his phone to grimace at Ryans anger, or at Charlie’s stupidity.

“ _Who?!_ ” Ryan demanded and Charlie looked like he was considering his loyalties to his employers and the danger Ryan posed.

The indecision didn’t last long.

“His name is Tim.” Charlie told him quickly. Ryan saw Geoff lift his arms in a ‘ _what the shit’_ fashion. “He deleted his details from my phone, his number, all our messages, everything.

“How did you find him?” Ryan pressed. He didn’t move. He didn’t need to. Charlie was apparently very happy to share.

“Through a site.” He admitted. “I’d have to send you the link, it’s just numbers… Deep web stuff.”

“You hired him without knowing who he was?”

“I’d been looking for… someone like him for months.” Charlie said, grimacing.

“Months, huh?” Ryan asked softly.

“I heard… he was good at getting to hard to reach places.” Charlie added, looking firmly at the floor now, sitting as still as possible so as to not draw more attention to himself.

“Heard from who, Charlie?”

The man flinched at the use of his name, staring at the floor.

“A client.”

“I think we both know I want a name and details, Charlie.” Ryan pressed.

“Jared Kush.” Charlie replied, almost in a whisper. “He’s own mining business that work over in Nevada. He said this Tim kid got into a high security facility owned by his competition. Stole plans he’d been after for years.”

“And he sent you the link to this site?”

“No, he’d moved by then.” Charlie shook his head, risking a glance up at Ryan. Ryan crossed his arms calmly. “I trawled through a heap of places-”

“You mean you got someone else to trawl through the deep web for him?” Ryan suggested quickly. Charlie Looked at the floor again and shrugged.

“I found his name and number and messaged him details of the job and my number. We set up the deal over messages. We only met face to face twice, I swear.”

“Describe him.” Ryan ordered. Charlie spread his hands a little and glanced around as if trying to recall the details of the thief.

“Short.” He started with a shrug. “Five five, maybe? Dark hair, short beard. Built like a footballer. You know, like, heavy set.”

“What was he wearing when you met him?”

Charlie raised an eyebrow and looked up and away quickly, confusion clear on his face.

“Why?”

“Answer the question, Charlie.” Ryan warned. He could see Michael shaking his head behind the man.

“Uh, tonight he was wearing black.” He shrugged. “The first time he was in jeans and a tee. Boots.”

“Jeans, were they clean?”

Charlie made a scoffing noise.

“I don’t know, man, why the fuck do you care?!”

Ryan stepped forward, making the intel dealer tense and jerk backwards as Ryan’s hand snapped out and grasped the collar of his shirt and hauled him out of the chair. Charlie made a surprised noise of fear and in turn grabbed handfuls of Ryans jacket to stabilise himself. Ryan lifted him so they were almost eye level, bringing the man up to his toes.

“Were you under the impression this was a conversation?” Ryan asked darkly, carefully maintaining the calm, level tone to his voice. Charlie gasped out a quiet reply that Ryan didn’t catch. “Because it isn’t. I don’t know you, Charlie, and I don’t give a shit about you. Answers. Or I will _beat them out of you_.” Ryan warned.

He let go of Charlie and shoved him back into the chair. The smaller man missed the seat by half an inch and both the man and the wood clattered to the cement floor.

Charlie groaned in pain and moved to stand and froze at a negative grunt from Ryan. He took a shaking breath and Ryan felt himself smile. He was glad he was wearing the mask.

“I don’t know. They were dirty, I guess? Like, greasy?”  
“Tim was his real name?” Ryan asked. Charlie shook his head.

“I doubt it.” Charlie replied. “I don’t know his real name. I didn’t ask, I promise.”

“And why did you send him to my apartment?” Ryan went on. Charlie looked at him, took a deep breath.

“Look…” He said, visibly shaken. “I can’t… They’ll have me killed.”

Ryan made a point of glancing around the room.

“And you thought we brought you here for a party?” He growled. “You can tell me, and let us take care of them, or I will kill you.” He spread his hands out. “And I’m in no kind of rush.”

Charlie stared at him, wide eyed. He looked frozen on the floor, awkwardly leaning on his hands after landing on his ass. He moved slightly, raised a hand out in front of him.

“Okay… Please… I-” He stopped and shook his head closing his eyes. “I… can’t…”

Ryan stepped forward and dropped a knee into Charlies chest as he moved forward, taking Charlie to the cement floor, flat on his back, leaning most of his weight through his sternum. Charlie let out a whimpering grunt of pain.

The man didn’t strike Ryan as someone who was good at physical confrontation. He was used to being surrounded by a couple of people on his side and yet here he was. Alone and under extremis to talk. His breathing was short, sharp and fast under Ryans’ knee.

“You’re conversing again, Charlie.” Ryan told him firmly. There was a moment of shaken silence, Charlie squeezing his eyes shut, split between fear and trying to work through the decision in his brain. Ryan was patient and waited right up until that patience ran out.

He clipped open his holster and looked up at Geoff.

“You might want to call Caleb.” He said and drew his weapon, flicking the safety off as he did so.

Charlie looked at the noise and freaked out.

“No, no, no, please, don’t… I _can’t._ ” He cried at Ryan, his hands pulling at his jeans and the bottom of his jacket, his legs shoving into the floor to try and escape from under him. Ryan ignored him and twisted slightly so he could pressed the muzzle of his weapon into the struggling mans’ lower thigh. Charlie froze on contact, tears rolling out of his eyes and his cries silenced to open mouthed gaping.

“Let’s start at the beginning.” Ryan told him softly. “When were you hired to do this?”

Charlie let out a breath he’d been holding.

“Five… five months ago.” He managed.

“By whom?” Ryan coaxed.

“It was… through… a-”

“Geoff here tells me you abhor technology and the shit it does to your business.” Ryan cut him off warningly.

“Okay,” Charlie nodded, “okay, just… please…”

“You have three seconds, Charlie.” Ryan warned.

“No-”

“Three.” Ryan counted off. Charlie opened his mouth, shook his head and tried to shift underneath Ryan’s knee. “Two…”

Charlie let out a string of pleas and expletives in response.

“One.” Ryan sighed, tilting the weapon in his hand hard into his patella, angling it so he wouldn’t hit anything too vital, and fired.

Both the gunshot and Charlie’s scream echoed around the room, he watched Geoff turn away at the sight of the kneecap exploding across the floor in several chunks, meat and blood following it.

Ryan moved to watch Charlie deal with this turn of events. He yelled in pain and shock for a moment, shaking and sweating and trying to lean up to look, stop and decide better, only to repeat the process. One of his hands reached down to grasp his thigh as he tried to roll.

As if that would help.

“Charlie,” Ryan said over his screaming, “Charlie, stop.”  
Charlie pressed his lips together, shaking his head, barely breathing.

“I asked you a question, remember?” Ryan told him. “You really want me to ask again?” He moved his weapon to his unharmed leg. Charlie whimpered and shook his head in short, sharp motions.

“Coo… Cooperson.” He breathed, barely audible. Geoff made a noise and motion behind him, probably to make some calls.

“And what did he want?”

“I… the… as much as I could… get.”

“And how did you know about my apartment? And the safe?” Ryan added.

“One of Jimmy’s cleaners… His mom was sick… he needed a payday…”

“He sold you info about me.” Ryan growled.

“Ye- yes.” Charlie nodded. “I’m sorry. I… I was doing my job.”

“You took the contract knowing it was for us.” Geoff asked from somewhere behind Ryan.

“I’m sorry… Geoff, I-”

“Where are the drives?” Ryan pressed.

“They… They’re waiting…” Charlie breathed, grinding his teeth in pain. “To be picked up. I can… I can tell you where.”

“Good.” Ryan smiled, standing, he looked up at Michael. “Michael, would you mind?” The man shrugged and pocketed his phone.

“Where are you going?”

“My bike is booked in for a service.” Ryan glanced at the clock, almost seven. “And then I have a cleaner to find.”

“Now?” Michael asked.

“Now.” Ryan nodded. “Because as soon as anyone Charlie’s gone people will scatter.” Geoff nodded in agreement as Ryan holstered his weapon and headed for the elevator.

“Sure, leave the rest to us.” Michael called snidely as Ryan let the doors close. “Not like I had any plans today.”

“Thanks.” Ryan replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter was some sex, this chapter was some violence. I read this over so many times and I'm annoyed with how it turned out, but hopefully you enjoyed it anyway!
> 
> I'm sorry this was late! I've been looking for places to live and I was between states and jobs and all sorts of drama. Next chapter up soon.


	5. Ch 4 - Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes back to... normal?
> 
> *edit* fixed a few typos. Omg, I missed so many.

“What’re you guys doing down there?” Ray asked from the couch as Ryan made it back to the penthouse, running his fingers through his long hair to free it from the mask sweat that had built up.

“Hey, Ray.” He smiled, moving over to see what he was playing on his DS. “We were chatting with someone.”

“Like, nicely, or with knives?” Ray laughed.

“Didn’t need any knives.” Ryan admitted. “He was very co-operative.”

“What a shame man, _fuck_ , sorry.” Ray’s pokémon fainted in battle. “Damn dual types. What’d he do?”

“He hired someone to rob my safe.” Ryan admitted, taking off his jacket and leaning on the back of the couch, suddenly feeling the night start to catch up with him. He rubbed his stomach where the small thief had kicked him hours ago.

“Oh, and you killed them? Are we going to have to get someone in to clean your place _again_?” Ryan glanced at the kid and chuckled, leaning down to grab the remote and flicking the TV to the morning news.

“No, and it’s only been once. The thief got away.”

Ray paused his game, the obnoxious music falling silent, and twisted around to look at him.

“What? How?”

Ryan shrugged in reply.

“His lucky night, I guess.” He acknowledged. “The guy who hired him was a middle man, though, Geoff is finding out who our top guy is with the information he very willingly gave us.”

“And the thief?” Ray pressed. “He say who he hired?” Ryan sighed, already disappointed with the results of _that_ line of questioning.

“No, he didn’t. Went by the name of Tim, but likely an alias. The kid deleted all of his info from his phone after Charlie paid him.”

“Who the fuck is Charlie?” Ray asked, going back to his game.

“The middle man.”

“Right, so, Charlie was hired by someone to hire someone to steal shit from your apartment, but did so in such a way as to _almost_ get caught by you, but somehow _not_ dead, and succeeded to the point of getting paid, but we still have no idea who he was?” Ray surmised.

“Pretty accurate summation of the night so far.”

“It’s after seven AM.” Ray told him

“Whatever.” Ryan dismissed, leaning hard against the back of the couch and sighing. He felt exhausted. He was getting old. The two of them stayed in comfortable silence for a long time as the Pokémon music tittered and the news went on about a series of muggings over the weekend.

“No decision yet?” Ryan asked. He felt more than saw Ray shake his head. “Well, let me know, yeah?”

“’Course.” Ray nodded. “I just…” He sighed. “I don’t know. I feel like they expect me to say no.”

“They want you do to whatever you want.” Ryan dismissed. “We’ll always be here, Ray. This might be a great opportunity for you. We get that. Just… Whatever you do, stay safe, yeah?”

“RnR forever.” Ray muttered, holding up a fist and Ryan chuckled and knocked his own fist into it lightly.

“So, how’re you going to find this thief?” Ray asked brightly. “I assume that you’d like to thank him for his services.”

“Well,” Ryan laughed, “now that you mention it… I have some people to speak to. And I imagine we’ll be spreading what description we have-”

“Which is…?”

“Short, maybe five five, broad. Moves like an acrobat. Charlie said he was white, has brown hair and a local accent.”

“Not very detailed.” Ray muttered.

“He smelled like grease.” Ryan added. “Makes me think he works with machinery.”

“Doesn’t narrow it down, either.” Ray sighed.

Ryan made an agreeing noise.

“Was he good?” Ray asked. “I mean, he got away from you.”

Ryan looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“I’m hardly infallible.” He pointed out. Ray snorted like he didn’t believe that. “He was good at using his opportunity and size, I’ll say that. And he jumped down the stairs like he wasn’t afraid of anything.”

“Makes for a good thief, then.”

Ryans phone buzzed in his pocket and he looked at the message as he hummed in agreement with Ray.

“Gotta go.” He said, looking at the reminder from his mechanic about his bike.

“What?” Ray asked, not even looking up.

“Was on my way to drop off my bike for a service.” Ryan explained quietly, stepping back from the couch and stretching a little to try and shake loose his stiffness.

“’kay.” Ray nodded as Ryan pulled on his civvie motorcycle jacket, scooped up his helmet and jogged out of the penthouse. “Good talkin’ to you Rye.”

Ryan didn’t reply.

 

Jeremy was just as sore the next day as he’d assumed he’d be. He woke to aching knees and a splitting headache. He quickly took some pain relief he kept on hand for such occasions before realising he was already late for work.

“Fuck me.” He snarled and struggled out of his sheets.

“Did already.” Matt replied from the other side of the bed.

“Not last night you didn’t.” Jeremy muttered. “You fell asleep and refused to go to your own apartment.” Jeremy complained, quickly putting on fresh underwear and pulling his work jeans and shirt on.

“Yeah, but you’re so adorable when you have to get yourself off. Who’d ya think about?” Matt spoke into the mattress.

“Certainly not you.” Jeremy muttered, searching through yesterday’s clothes for his phone. “Did you throw my shit everywhere?”

“You’re too tidy.” Matt accused, throwing the covers over his head. Jeremy sighed and found his phone and then started hunting for his wallet.

“Go and sleep in your own apartment.” Jeremy told him. “You’re on at two, right?”

“Mmm.” Matt agreed, not moving from where he was.

“Right, see you then.” Jeremy called, moving out of the room to start jogging to work. He caught sight of himself in the mirror and cringed at his hair, messed from sleep. His eyes were hollowed and ringed with shadow and there was a red welt on his neck where the Vagabond had held a knife against it last night and a bruise on his cheek where he must have caught a fist.

He almost shivered at the memory, making a mental note to change his details on the contract site and

He threw water at his face and hair as he ran out of the apartment, trying to freshen himself up before he made his way to work.

 

“What the fuck happened to you?” Griffon demanded of Jeremy as he stumbled into the office, sweating from running in the spring warmth. “Oh, and you’re late.” She added.

“Sorry, I slept through my alarm.” He explained. “Or Matt turned it off, or something.” He sighed, dumping his wallet and phone into the drawer of the desk he used opposite where Griffon sat. He blinked and tried to remember if she’d had the blue dread yesterday in her blonde hair. Her tats snaked up under the short sleeved work shirt that was already covered in grease and oil.

“I meant to your face, Dooley.” Griffon assured him. “You’ve been tardy almost every day you’ve worked here. If you weren’t the only mechanic that consistently turned up, I’d consider letting you go.”

Jeremy half smiled and his hand instinctively when to the welt on his neck.

“I was… There was a fight.” He explained lamely. Griffon looked at him, her intelligent eyes seeing through him. She raised her hands in surrender.

“I don’t want details.” She said. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine. Sore, but fine.” He nodded.

“Good, then go out there and make the bike you ‘borrowed’ last night doesn’t show signs of use.” She ordered and Jeremy winced at the accusation. He didn’t bother wondering how she knew or why she wasn’t angrier. He nodded and grabbed his gloves and went to work on the bike before getting started on the days list of services.

A bike pulled up as he stepped out of the office, parked in the drop of area beside the door. It was a gorgeous bike, black with midnight blue trim. It was loud, its powerful engine idling as its rider nudged down the kickstand. Jeremy was drawn to it, simply because it was pretty, and paused to watch the rider dismount.

“Nice bike.” He said, diverting toward it as the rider turned off the engine and freed the key from the ignition. They were tall, standing over the bike. They angled their helmet up at them.

“Thanks.” Came, muffled, through the visor. “I’m booked in for a... service?”

“Alice at the front desk can take your key’s for you.” Jeremy nodded, knowing what that hesitation meant. The rider nodded and pulled off the helmet, painted to match the bike.

Jeremy took a breath of surprise as they did so and tensed a little, squinting at them in the morning light to make sure.

“Didn’t I see you last night? At hogs?” The woman asked. “You were pissed at Charlie.” She added. Jeremy nodded, recalling her stepping out of the booth and moving around him. Her dark hair and caramel skin looking just as good now as it had last night when he’d barely paid attention.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Sorry if I interrupted.”

The woman shrugged.

“None of my business, is it?” She smiled. “I had my own beef with him. Doesn’t matter now, I guess.”

Jeremy frowned at her.

“What do you mean?” He asked. She sat her helmet on the bike’s fuel tank and shrugged.

“You didn’t hear?” She replied. “Someone smashed through his door this morning and dragged him off.”

Jeremy winced at the thought, and immediately jumped to the worst conclusion.

“Do they know who?” He tried to sound nonchalant and concerned. By the expression on her face she didn’t believe him.

“No. Only reason I know is because I was meant to catch up with him this morning about a job.” She admitted. “But I have my suspicions.”

“Hmmm.” Jeremy nodded.

“Office, you said, for keys?”

“Yeah, she’ll call you once I’m done, and all of the important paperwork will be under the seat.” Jeremy noted pointedly. The woman smiled and touched the top of the bike fondly.

“Look after her, yeah?”

“Of course.” Jeremy nodded.

“Thanks.” She nodded and walked around him and headed inside.

Jeremy turned and walked slowly back towards his first job, feeling a little numb.

He hadn’t expected the Fakes to get to Charlie so quickly. He had no idea how they’d known it was him who hired someone to steal from the Vagabond. He felt exceptionally glad that he’d deleted his information from Charlies phone. Felt glad he’d taken extra precautions. The alias, the changing contract sights, the ‘satisfied customer’ he’d created to spread word to the right people. All dead ends now.

Charlie had a fake name and description and, even better, he had the drives. If the Fakes had gotten to him so soon it meant that they’d essentially contained the situation without any information getting out.

That didn’t mean he was safe. The Fakes had power and influence in enough of the city to just work their way through every thief and eventually find him. And he didn’t doubt they would. The Fakes aside; Vagabond was not known for his forgiving personality. And breaking into his place, tasing him and then getting away was probably a considerable transgression.

“Jeremy.” Griffon called, walking over, paperwork in her hand. “You awake, man?”

Jeremy broke from his thoughts and looked at her. She was frowning.

“Hmm?” He blinked. She shook her head.

“Been calling you across the floor.” She told him. “You didn’t finish this paperwork last night.” She held up the files in her hand. “No leaving today until it’s done.”

“Right, sorry, I had a thing last night.” Jeremy explained lamely. Griffon nodded.

“Yeah, I figured that out.” She sighed. “But this is important, you know that." Griffon indicated the files. "People depend on us for this stuff. Look, Jeremy, I’m happy – well, not happy – I’m _okay_ with you having a, let’s call it a side job, but when you’re here.” Griffon pointed at the cement floor with her free hand, her face firm and voice steady. “I need you _here_.”

Jeremy nodded.

“I’m sorry.” He agreed. “Just… I-”

“How’s your nephew?” Griffon added, not letting Jeremy finish his poor excuse. “Nicholas?”

“Nicholas.” Jeremy nodded. “He’s… Well, the chemo isn’t fun. Again.”

“Jeremy.” Griffon stepped closer to him. “I know things are tough right now.” She assured him. “And I can only do so much. I know you need the money just…” She sighed again. “Don’t do anything too stupid. This city can be unforgiving.”

Jeremy nodded, feeling internally guilty at having already managed to do something remarkably stupid.

“I know, Griffon.”

“Good.” She nodded. “Now, Abbey has called in sick again so I need you all day. Okay, bye!” She spun and started walking back to her office before Jeremy could argue.

“Great.” He muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaand this is the Chapter I was due to put up this week before I got naughty and forgot. 
> 
> It's sort of a filler chapter, so sorry about that. More fun and shenanigans in the near future.
> 
> Reviews etc welcome :)


	6. Ch 5 - Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has a problem with his bike.

The sound of a heavy bike engine wasn’t unusual in the workshop. But usually Jeremy was in control of the noise, not surprised by it.

He stopped and frowned at the oil cap he was replacing as the bike shut off the sound of a kickstand clicking over echoed around the otherwise quiet garage. He heard the distant sound of Matt talking to someone and that made Jeremy get up.

Matt only ever came out from behind the desk if someone hot or famous rocked up. _Especially_ when Griffon wasn’t here. So, Jeremy stood up from under the car parked up on the lift and wiped his hands on a rag before walking around the stack of shelves housing tools and parts to find Matt talking to a guy next to a motor bike.

Jeremy paused and stretched slightly, cracking his shoulders and releasing his muscles. His whole body stiff from the workout he’d forced himself to do this morning. Ever since his run in last week with the Vagabond he’d felt that his fitness needed work. So, he’d gone back to a gymnastics coach.

He was feeling it today. He shook himself loose and headed over to Matt and the customer.

The dude was tall, a few inches on his lanky friend, and broad. But he looked pretty cute under the button-down shirt he was wearing, loose on his frame now that he’d pulled the plain bike jacket off. He was wearing plain slacks instead of riding pants, so Jeremy guessed he was an office worker. IT maybe.

He was watching Matt speak with an easy-going interest and a distant smile, as if content listening to the man talk about the shop and how available the mechanics would be over the next couple of days to fix whatever was wrong with his bike.

The bike itself was gorgeous. It was a custom pain job, no doubt, all black, chrome and blood red. No distinguishing marks on it, so Jeremy couldn’t place the artist, but the colours fading together and finishing in chrome made him want to find out.

It was a Suzuki GSX 750, from the look of the engine that sat naked, not hidden away by fairings. If Jeremy had had fifty grand to throw at buying and customising a bike, this wouldn’t be far from it. 

“The bike is married, Jeremy.” Matt teased as Jeremy approached.

“Are we sure?” Jeremy asked, rounding the machine to look at the custom chrome plated exhausts.

“We’re sure.” The guy responded and Jeremy looked up at him. He had cool blue eyes and a strong jaw. His smile had gone and for a second Jeremy got the impression of annoyance or anger. But then he smiled and Jeremy was struck by how fucking adorable it was. He blinked. “And we’re pretty happy together.” The guy added and Jeremy frowned in confusion before recalling what had just been said. He looked back at the bike.

“What a shame.” He said, running his hand over the fuel tank. “You don’t know what you’re missing babe.”

“Is he flirting with my bike?” The guy asked Matt. His voice was calm and soft, spoken with a smooth, slightly southern accent.

“Be glad he’s not flirting with you.” Matt replied. He cleared his throat. “Romeo, Mr. Haywood wants you fix his bike, not make babies with it.”

“I can do both.” Jeremy joked, turning towards Haywood and Matt. “What’s up with it?”

The guy shrugged.

“I just had it serviced, to be honest, and she’s playing up. Taking a long time to break, struggling through corners.” He sighed and rested a hand on the handlebars. “She wasn’t doing it before, and I was going to take her back, but I drove passed and saw your sign. Thought maybe you could take a quick look?”

Jeremy frowned at him and squatted down next to the bike, running his eyes over the engine he could see.

“Who serviced it?”

“Harry Henry’s.” Haywood replied. “Same place that customised it.”

Jeremy looked up at him and met his cool blue eyes. He blinked with a sense of familiarity, but shook it off as his penis having a say about the guy. He put his attention back on the bike.

“When did Harry get someone this good at detailing?” He asked, running his hands along the patterns of colour change on the body. Haywood shrugged.

“They did it a few years ago now.” He admitted. “I’ve never had a problem with them.”

“Well,” Jeremy said, holding the handle bars and rocking the bike forward and kicking up the body stand to take it off the ground, “was it actually Harry or did one of his idiots do it?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I worked there for a bit.” Jeremy told him, crossing to the shelf and grabbing a couple of stabilisers to throw under the bike and a tool kit to dump in front of the wheel. “Sometimes a few of the apprentices get left a little too alone.” He knelt down to start undoing the front wheel frame as soon as the bike was steady. Matt and Haywood watched on.

“He’s looked after her for years.” The man pointed out.

“Harry’s good but sometimes his mechanics get lazy.” Jeremy shrugged and lifted the brake rotors aside and shook his head at the disks.

“Fuck me.” Haywood snarled and for the briefest of seconds his voice sounded familiar, but Jeremy couldn’t quite place it before the man added, “Did they put the brake pad on backwards?” his voice back to its normal soft tones.

“Looks like it. Happens when a newbie doesn’t realise the brakes can be counter intuitive.” Jeremy explained. “I can just flip it, if you’d like, but the disk should probably be replaced.” He indicated the scratching and damage the back of the brake pad had done. “And the brake pad, obviously. We have a truck, we can run it over to Harry’s if you want. Or I can flip it here, give it a quick function and you can run it back to him.”

Haywood considered it.

“I’d prefer not to take it back to the people who fucked it up.” The man said honestly, sounding angrier than he looked. Like he was used to hiding his reactions. Office work could be frustrating, Jeremy guessed.

“I’ll call Harry, let him know.” Jeremy nodded.

“Let’s get your details.” Matt offered, tilting his head towards the office.

Jeremy pulled his phone out as they walked away and dialled Harry’s office number, hoping he was there.

“This is Harry.” A rough smokers voice answered.

“Hey, Harry, it’s Jeremy.” Jeremy said, smiling despite the fact the man couldn’t see him. “Dooley.” He added after a moment of silence.

“Jeremy!” Harry laughed. “Kid, how are you, how’s Griffon treating you?”

“Good, good.” Jeremy assured him. “Working me too hard.”

“You millennials were always lazy.” Harry replied. “What can I do for you? Need a part for something?”

“Oh,” Jeremy glanced at the brake pad, “maybe, but I actually called because one of your customers dropped by.”

“Everything okay?” Harry asked, his tone levelling and growing concerned.

“No, actually.” Jeremy sighed. “He had it serviced with you in the last couple of days. I pulled off the brake pad-”

“Don’t tell me…” Harry groaned. “Two seconds.” He added and then Jeremy heard yelling away from the phone. “Let me guess. Backwards?”

“Yep.” Jeremy nodded, running his fingers over the torn up disk. “He’s been driving on it, too. The disk looks fragile and the pad will have to be replaced. He’s not particularly happy.”

“Mick,” Harry barked, clearly not aiming his voice at the phone, “I thought I told you to check all of Ant’s work?” There was voices that Jeremy couldn’t quite make out. “Well, you missed one. Don’t let him near any of the bikes, okay?”

“Sorry Jeremy.” Harry added when he was back. “We’ll cover the cost of repair. I take it he wants you to do it?”

“He said he didn’t want to bring it back to you.” Jeremy sighed. “Kind of weird, because he said you guys customised it.”

“Oh, wait, what bike is it?”

“A GSX 750.” Jeremy said. “It’s pretty, too. I kind of want to marry it.”

“Right, James, tall guy, long dark blonde hair?”

“That’s him. Matt’s chatting him up as we speak.” Jeremy glanced towards the office where Haywood was laughing at a dumb joke Matt had clearly made and _shit_. Jeremy was too gay for this.

“I’m hardly surprised.” Harry chuckled. “I know the guy and the bike. He can be picky. Just tell him we’ll cover the cost, I’ll get one of the boys to drop around a disk and brake pad tomorrow. How much you going to throw on top of this?”

Jeremy smiled.

“Well, tell you what. I’ll do the labour for free if you promise to give me a custom paint job whenever I can afford something this pretty.”

Harry’s laugh devolved into a smoker’s cough.

“So, never.” He guessed.

“Who did it?”

“Jerry.” Harry said. “Remember him? He went away for half a year few years back and came back with a real hard on for paint jobs. Can’t get enough of them. High quality, too.”

“You’re telling me.” The sound of the door from the office alerted Jeremy of the returning customer. “Listen, gotta go.”

“Alright man, just send me the invoice and we’ll cover it.” Harry said. “And I’ll check it, too, so don’t go adding too much superfluous shit.”

“I’ll try.” Jeremy promised.

“Good man, give him my apologies.”

“Will do, Bye harry.”

“Yeah, Jeremy.” Harry agreed and hung up as Haywood stopped next to the bike. Jeremy looked up at him, Matt was back in the office processing the job. Haywood’s expression was a little icy when they looked at each other.

“Well?” He asked. Jeremy wondered what he would sound like in bed. If he liked to use that calm, soft voice to tell people what to do…

_Focus Dooley._

“Harry said he’d cover the cost, of course.” Jeremy reported. “He’s sending over replacement parts tomorrow and extends his deepest apologies.”

The guy raised an eyebrow sceptically.

“Really?”

“Well, he said he was sorry.” Jeremy smiled. The man nodded, not quite returning the expression.

“How long?” He asked. Jeremy tilted his head, looking the bike over and thinking about what else he had lined up this afternoon and tomorrow.

“When do you need it by?” Jeremy asked in return. The guy shrugged.

“It doesn’t really matter, I have access to a car.” He said.

“Okay, give it two days, then?” Jeremy said. “I’ll make sure it’s done right and I’ll call you when I’m done?” Jeremy stood and wiped off his hands again.

“That sounds fine.” Haywood nodded.

“Great, hey, can I ask…” Jeremy smiled like a kid. “Can I go for a ride afterwards?”

 

Ryan blinked at the kid, his internalised anger faulting for a long moment. Was the kid flirting with him? No, by the look of his face he really wanted to ride his bike. Ryan frowned, suddenly feeling very protective of his bike despite the fact that he’d just asked Jeremy to fix it. Maybe this was a mistake. He wanted his bike fixed as much as he wanted to pick Jeremy up by the throat and throw him into traffic.

Ryan had recognised the thief as soon as he’d spoken. His small, compact frame looked different in his sleeveless, bright orange work shirt, sure. In the halogen light of the garage and the midday sun his face looked different than in the shadow of night. But Ryan had placed his voice instantly.

The kid, however, hadn’t seemed to place him and Ryan put it down to the shirt that was a size too big and the hair that was braided instead of tied back tightly and the voice that he wasn’t forcing into a growl. Still, though, he didn’t want to give him too many clues. And, if the young thief was as sharp as he seemed, he’d pick up on any anger shown outward. So, Ryan had schooled his expression throughout their interaction and promised himself that later, when he was properly dressed, he’d come back and give the kid a few more bruises.

Jeremy, Dooley was his last name if Matt was to be believed, was watching him, his face flicking to curious as Ryan studied him. He watched the kid go a little red.

“I meant the bike, of course.” He added, a little too quickly. “I… She’s… I’d really like to see how she handles.”

“Considering an upgrade?” Ryan asked, turning a little to stand straight on to Jeremy. The kid smiled mischievously.

“I don’t have anything to upgrade.” He said. “But I’m always looking for ideas.”

Interesting. Charlie had said he paid the thief three thousand for a few hours work. If he averaged a similar income for most of his jobs then he’d be able to afford a bike or car easily. Ryan shrugged.

“As long as you’re gentle with her.” He said.

“Of course, I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” Jeremy smiled broadly, clapping his hands together.

“Right.” Ryan said, looking over the torn sleeves of the young thief’s work shirt. “You seem very professional.”

Jeremy paused and looked at his own sleeves.

“Oh… It was an accident.” He tried. Ryan held back an amused chuckle.

“As in… Did the shirt walk into a door a few times?” He suggested and Jeremy laughed in reply.

“You caught me. I abuse my shirt.” He sighed. “But in fairness, it’s much easier to work in. Now, I promise I will look after your bike, and Harry will cover the cost. Is there anything else you want me to check before I give her back to you?”

Ryan glanced down at his bike, already back in pieces again.

“Just check their work, will you?” he asked. “Make sure they didn’t miss anything else.”

“Can do.” Jeremy nodded, holding out his hand. Ryan shook it before thinking and paused, fighting down the urge to break the young mans teeth. He needed the kid to fix his bike before he could kill him.

Plus, he probably needed to call Geoff.

He said a quick goodbye, made a vague notion of trying to get a bus and walked out of sight of the garage, leaving his jacket and helmet with his bike. He was dialling Ramsay before he’d even stopped to find a place to talk.

“Ryan, what’s up?” Geoff asked as he answered the phone. He’d gotten much better at actually answering these last few months.

“I found him.” Ryan said, his voice unconsciously hitting his Vagabond tone.

“Who- the thief?” Geoff asked, surprise in his voice, noise like movement.

“Yeah, at random. I was right, he’s a grease monkey. Works at a tiny garage over on Harvey, downtown.” Ryan told him quickly.

"On Harvey?" Geoff replied. "You mean Griff Jobs?"

"That's the one." Ryan nodded to himself, ducking into a corner and away from the sight of the street. There was a moment of thoughtful silence. 

"That's Griffon's place." Geoff said carefully, slowly and quietly as if it was half to himself. Ryan understood, didn't care.

"Well, it's definitely him, and he's definitely just a mechanic." Ryan pressed. "He can be replaced."

“Why did you go in?” Geoff asked, sounding like he was making motions to someone in the back ground.

“Had my bike serviced last week and she’s been playing up, I drive past it near my new place, so I pulled in just to get an opinion. He was the only mechanic on.”

“Of all the luck.” Geoff laughed. “Don’t kill him.”

“Obviously, he needs to fix my bike.” Ryan dismissed.

“No… I mean… wait, what _is_ wrong with your bike?”

“They put the brake pad on backwards.” Ryan sighed, angry about the whole thing still.

“Ooo-kay, didn’t know that was an option.” Geoff replied. “Is he alone?”

“No, he’s got an office worker with him. But their hours say they close at five.”

“Good.” Geoff said. “Ryan, you’re going to hate this, but I have an idea. Did you get his name?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Look, he climbed up to your apartment, successfully got in and then got away from you, right?”

“Yes, Geoff, no need to rub it in.” Ryan snarled.

“Slow down, buddy.” Geoff laughed. “My point, Murder McGee, is that maybe this kid might be more useful on the payroll than under the interstate.”

Ryan glared at the side of a building for a long, long moment, hoping his furious silence made its way over the line to Geoff’s idiot head.

“So, you don’t love it.” Geoff guessed

“You want to _hire_ him?” Ryan spat.

“Well, I’d prefer to blackmail him, if I’m honest. He did cross you.” Geoff was quick to reassure him.

"Is this because he works for her, Geoff?" Ryan asked firmly. "Like I said, he seemed pretty replaceable."

"No, this is because I need more hands, shithead," Geoff snarled warningly, "and hands talented at thieving would also be pretty fucking useful in our line of work. And, hey, you can treat him like shit, if you want. Knock him around a bit if it makes you feel better.” For a moment Ryan simply glared at the phone. He didn't like this. It set a precedent. 

“He said _you held my leash_ to your asshole middle man.” Ryan pointed out venomously.

“And now you get to hold his.” Geoff pointed out. “Listen, text me his name and whatever else you can find, and I’ll get something to dig up on him. You need a lift?”

“No. But I do need a change of clothes.” Ryan said darkly.

“Right, I’ll get Michael-” He heard a yell of annoyed disagreement from beyond the other end of the line. “Fine, I’ll get Jack to run you a bag. Just… try to keep it civil until I get there, okay?”

Ryan considered it.

“I can’t promise anything.” He said. Geoff sighed down the line.

“Okay, well don’t kill him, then. And don't fuck up the shop.”

“Like I said, Geoff. He needs to fix my bike, first.” Ryan smiled.

There was a few beats of silence before Geoff spoke in a spooked voice.

“You’re fucking crazy sometimes, you know that right, man?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how bikes work! Not entirely true, this happened to my sisters bike once. Dumbass apprentice. 
> 
> More boring talking and stuff. Ugh. I promise it'll get more fun after this.


	7. Ch 6 - Interaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy gets to know Vagabond through their favorite activity. 
> 
> Violence

Jeremy bid Matt goodbye as the man left for the day, leaving Jeremy with just the floor and security lights on. Jeremy stayed, again, working up the car that he wouldn’t be able to do in the morning if he was going to get the bike done.

He figured that if he pulled it all the way apart he could charge Harry for essentially a full service, function check and upgrades. Sure, the customer wouldn’t notice the extra bits and pieces, but he could charge Harry for it and make a little extra money from this, if he did the paperwork correctly. Griffon might notice, but she probably wouldn’t mind because it would be Harry’s money, not hers. Genius.

Best idea he’d had in a long time. Especially since his run of bad luck had started three months ago with his mom getting sick and his nephews relapse.

Then there was last week, the nightmare of a job and the haunting feeling that had only just begun to fade in the last couple of days. He’d been sure it’d come back to him. Charlie had gone missing and Jeremy could only assume that the Fake AH Crew were responsible. Sure, the man had turned up again, but he’d been less a kneecap and dumped, bandaged and bleeding on one of Mt Chilliads less trafficked roads. Charlie had had to crawl four miles before anyone found him.

Jeremy didn’t like the guy but still… it seemed harsh.

Even more disconcerting was that Charlie probably had had information to give them to soften their approach. Jeremy had… nothing. If the Fakes or Vagabond – or both – caught up with him…

He physically shuddered and decided he was too tired for this shit.

He finished up what he was doing and left the car as it was for the morning. He looked at James’ bike parked in the line by the wall and smiled at it. It was too pretty. It would only take him a few hours, really, to fix and finish it. And having the car done meant he could take the gorgeous thing for a ride tomorrow and actually enjoy it. He knew just the road to hit with it, too. Up by Chilliad. Nice long stretches of bends followed by some straights to gather some speed.

He stood and stretched.

He was tired, sore from the day of the gym and work, and was looking forward to a warm shower. He briefly considered calling Matt to see how his tinder date was going, but if his friend had gotten lucky he would only interrupt.

Jeremy packed up, flicked most of the lights off - bar the security lights - and locked the front doors. He headed towards the back door, closest to the walk to his apartment, and looked up in surprise as it opened.

His heart stopped and he dropped his keys in surprise.

The Vagabond was silhouetted in the doorway, barely lit by the security lights. He was wearing his black and blue jacket this time, the same firm but rugged looking jeans, his mask obscuring his features and his hands, thankfully, weapon free.

“Fuck.” Jeremy said bluntly, his senses already hyper-focusing on the guy who he’d robbed last week, his pulse skyrocketing and his breathing picking up as adrenaline surged into his system.

“Yeah.” Vagabond sounded like he agreed and dropped into a sprint. Jeremy spun and did the same towards the front door with the emergency handle.

He didn’t get far; the element of surprise and preparation gave Vagabond a slight edge on him and a few paces later a grip on his sleeveless work shirt tugged him to a stop and they went crashing to the floor. Pain shot through Jeremy’s elbow and shoulder and he quickly struggled to his feet only to meet the Vagabonds fist with his face.

He staggered backwards, dazed and struggling to find his balance, and barely managed to get a guard up to absorb the power of the next punch that came towards his jaw. He wore the blow and checked the knee that followed it, struggling to match Vagabonds brutal pace with his already exhausted muscles.

Jeremy forced himself back, gaining space to assess the situation, and blocked a hook and followed through with a cross and then a combination. It didn’t hurt the bigger man much, but it bought him time to steady his mind and collect his thoughts. He wasn’t running from this, that was clear. But the man also wasn’t trying to kill him because, if he was, he’d already be dead.

Jeremy grunted and went backwards with a fist to his solar plexus, barely retaining the air in his lungs, and replied with a feinted jab and then moved around and delivered a sharp kick to the Vagabonds knee, throwing his balance enough for Jeremy to follow through with a cross to his jaw that sent the hit-man sprawling.

Jeremy spent precious seconds of indecision deciding whether or not he should run before the man was on his feet again and the choice was null and void.

The man came back at him with a vengeance, throwing a hard set of punches that shoved Jeremy backwards in order to avoid getting knocked out. Jeremy tried to return the favour, but only met deflection or air.

Then Jeremy tried to kick him and the man wore it, grunted, and before Jeremy could reset grabbed the leg and shoved forward.

There was a hand fisted in his work shirt before Jeremy could blink and he was in the air a second later, swearing blindly as gravity took hold.

A loud, reverberating _thud_ filled the dim garage as Jeremy hit the bonnet of a car he hadn’t realised was behind him and his vision just blinked out, his lungs emptied of air and he growled with the pain through his hips, back and head. He scrabbled and tore at the Vagabonds grip, shoving the bigger man off in panic, trying to force himself calm. He found just enough room to blindly kick out at the Vagabond and met with something hard. Jeremy struggled to his feet, trying to regain his vision and balance, the world spinning, before a fist landed in his jaw.

He was on his knees, blood pouring into his mouth, half a second later.

He heard boots on the ground next to him and his adrenaline surged. He rushed upwards and spear tackled the guy by the middle. They went backwards, hitting the ground again and Jeremy spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor and shoved a knee into The Vagabond diaphragm. He took a second to breathe, his chest heaving in a mix of panic and lack of fitness and the Vagabond used the time and space to his advantage. He hip-escaped out, shoving against Jeremy’s knee to move his weight and rolled to his feet and Jeremy struggled to his.

He spat more blood on the floor. The Vagabond watched him for a second, rolling his shoulders slightly like he’d just finished a warm up.

Jeremy had never hated someone more.

They moved at the same time and Vagabonds experience gave him the advantage as he saw through Jeremy’s feint, checked his kick and landed an open palm to his sternum. Jeremy reeled backwards, hitting the floor again, and was only able to get up because Vagabond essentially grabbed the back of his collar and threw him into the steel wall of the garage.

Then there was a hand around his throat, pressing hard. The Vagabond trapped him against the wall and shoved upwards, taking all but the tips of his toes off the floor.

Jeremy kicked at the wall for purchase and shoved at the hand almost choking him and swore. He glared up at the mask looking down on him, blue eyes meeting his from behind the black skull.

“You done?” The Vagabond asked. Jeremy tried to snarl a smart reply, but it barely managed to get past his windpipe, coming out as a half-garbled mess of words. He felt the man pinning him against the wall chuckle deep in his chest. Jeremy didn’t know why he wasn’t dead, but his imagination was running wild. He had heard of the things Vagabond was capable of and he was terrified of the idea than the man had come for retribution.

“Do you remember robbing me?” The man asked quietly. Jeremy tried to pick himself up a little take the weight off his neck, but Vagabond pressed into him firmly. Jeremy managed a nod, closing his eyes for a second and pressing the heel of his work boot into the wall, giving himself scarce amounts of purchase.

“Did you know whose apartment it was?”

Jeremy fought to shake his head this time, barely able to swallow the blood in his mouth around the hand pressing into his throat. He pushed upwards with his boot and then there was a knee against his leg, pressing between his thighs and sideways, so that Jeremy lost any hope of purchase. He grunted in frustrated pain. He could feel his neck bruising. He needed to slow his heart rate down. He didn’t doubt that the Vagabond could feel it against his ribcage.

The feel of muscle walled him in and, with his decreasing levels of oxygen, the man holding him against the wall became his entire world. Nothing but the feel and stink of leather and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The man crowded over him, looking down at Jeremy struggle to breathe. He tried to lift his weight through his arms again.

“You tased me.” Vagabond added.

“Sorry about that.” Jeremy managed, barely. “You brought the taser, though, so…” He tried to shrug but wasn’t sure if it worked. “I thought maybe you were just… kinky… liked… it…” Jeremy wasn’t sure why he was wasting his last words on a dumbass joke, but it made him feel better when The Vagabond made an annoyed growling noise at him and shoved him further up the wall. Jeremy’s air became even harder to get.

The sound of the door opening again next to him made Jeremy glance sideways as far as he could and he groaned as he watched Ramsay, Fake AH’s leader who still hadn’t managed to get arrested, step up behind his loyal dog, smiling. He had his dark hair lazily pushed back, had shaved off the moustache he’d reportedly sported for a while and he was in a comfortable button down white shirt. The tattoos visible beneath the rolled-up sleeves.

“I thought you were going to start with a civil conversation?” Ramsay asked, sounding on the verge of laughter. Jeremy kicked at the wall and shoved at the hold for good measure. Vagabond shrugged.

“This seemed to get his attention.” He replied. Jeremy gripped hard on the Vagabonds arms as they pinned him, and lifted himself up again, taking his weight off of the palm against his throat slightly.

“So would’ve ‘Hi’.” He growled, his voice catching in his throat and he coughed at the remaining irritation. Ramsay chuckled.

“Well, you pissed him off, kid, so this is on you.” The man shrugged. “Put him down, hard to have a conversation when the other party is choking.”

The Vagabond hesitated, his eyes flicking Jeremy up and down behind the mask quickly before lowering the smaller man to the floor. Jeremy sucked in deep mouthfuls of air as soon as his neck was freed. Vagabond moved back a little, hand fisting in the shoulder of his shirt to hold him against the wall, but otherwise opening Jeremy to conversation with the mob boss. Jeremy cleared his throat by coughing for a moment, pain at every breath snarling through his neck.

Silence for a moment while Ramsay regarded him.

“Need your car fixed?” Jeremy snarled, more angry than joking, struggling to even his breathing out while dealing with the pain in his chest and head. He had the overwhelming urge to spit blood again but resisted. Ramsay chuckled.

“The Vagabond tells me you outran him after breaking into his apartment.” Ramsay said, ignoring Jeremy’s attempt at breaking the ice. He wasn’t sure how to reply so he stayed silent but for the heavy beating of his heart pounding in his chest and his recovering lungs heaving in air.

“Breaking in is impressive in the first place, wouldn’t you say, Vagabond?” Ramsay smiled, slinging his hands into his pockets and glancing at the masked hit man.

“Harder than your average McDonalds.” Vagabond replied. Jeremy blinked in surprise and looked between them. How had they-

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to have juvenile records unsealed.” Ramsay explained. “So, I know all your secrets, Jeremy. Or are you going by Tim now?”

Jeremy stared at him in silence.

“Jeremy Tim?” Ramsay tried. “Dooley? Tim Doolz?”

“Jeremy.” Jeremy snapped, just to shut him up and the smile on Ramsay’s face went from easy going to downright evil.

“There you are.” He murmured, as if he’d caught him out somehow. “Vagabond here wanted to throw you into traffic,” Jeremy glanced at the motionless mask to his right and back to the high rolling criminal king of the underworld, “but I think you’ll be more useful alive. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Jeremy frowned slightly, nerves and fear coiling in his gut.

“Useful?” He asked, totally lost.

“Yes, useful.” Ramsay nodded. “Of use.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes at the condescension.

“You’ve had a rough few months.” Ramsay clarified. “Your mothers needs increasing levels of care and is accruing more and more bills by the day.” Jeremy looked at him, startled by the information, he went to move, ask him _how the fuck he knew that_. The Vagabond read him, though and shoved him backwards, hard against the wall, pointedly. “Your nephews’ cancer has reappeared and your brother can barely afford the treatments. The apartment building you live in has increased the rent by twenty five percent in the last two months and,” Ramsay stepped forward a little so that he had to angle his head down to speak to the young thief, “last week you pissed off one of the most dangerous men in Los Santos.”

Jeremy could hear the air moving in and out of his lungs. He had no idea where this was going but his skin iced over as Ramsay had moved forward and spoken. He stayed still and silent.

“So, this isn’t an offer, kid.” Ramsay explained. “I’m not here to give you a choice. You work for me, now.”

Jeremy blinked at him in surprise, the knowledge not making him feel any better.

“You come when I call and do what I say. I can avail myself of your services at any time and you are not in a position to say no.” Ramsay went on. “My corporate shells will start paying the bills you’re supporting with your-” he glanced around himself, “ _side job_. And those bills will go unpaid the moment you disappear. And I think you can guess who’s going to come looking for you.” He looked needlessly at The Vagabond, still standing motionless, impossible to read behind his mask.

There was a long moment of silence that was filled only by Jeremy’s nervous breathing.

“You’re fucking serious.” He managed over his shock. Ramsay chuckled.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ramsay asked. “You climbed up a fifteen-story building, managed to get away from arguably the best close combat fighter in town _and_ proceeded to jump down fifteen flights of stairs without breaking a bone. Those are skills I can put to use.” The man shrugged as if it were easy as that. “And I would rather them _not_ be used against me. So, relax. No more crime that potentially runs afoul of the Fakes” He smiled broadly and looked at The Vagabond. “I’ll leave the details to you; the FBI is sure to have noticed my absence by now. Best go and make sure that their stories match up.” He nodded and then walked back out of the garage, leaving them in almost deafening silence.

Jeremy finally was able to spit out the blood still collecting in his mouth.

“I only climbed five stories.” He pointed out, almost as an afterthought. The Vagabond let him go and took a step backwards.

“I know.” He said as he produced a phone from one of his pockets and handed it to him. It was basic, though bright orange as if to match his mechanic uniform, and already programmed. “If this phone rings, answer it. The find my phone feature is locked on so if you miss a call, I’ll know where to find you. And if you’re not with it? We stop paying bills until we find you.”

Jeremy looked at him in frustrated anger, leaning into the wall and trying to stop the pain from overwhelming his chest.

“So, what, I’m your errand boy?” He demanded. Vagabond chuckled low in amusement and shook his head, taking a step into Jeremy’s space and looking down at him. His icy blue eyes boring into him from the shadows of his mask.

“No.” He admitted. “But we do _hold your leash_ now.”

Jeremy felt his face slacken a little. He’d said the same thing of The Vagabond to Charlie-

“Didn’t think I’d hear about that little comment?” The man asked in his tell-tale growl, obscuring his voice and accent. “Should be careful of what you say in public, _boy._ ”

Jeremy felt his face flame in annoyance, but knew it was pointless to argue. The Vagabond seemed to revel in this response but Jeremy refused to avert his gaze from the other man.

“So, yes, when we whistle, you come running. We say fetch, you climb up another fifteen stories to get what we need and if I say _sit_ … Well.” He tilted his head, as if trying to make a point. Then the man moved and Jeremy flinched backwards but couldn’t avoid the toe that hooked behind his knee that dragged him off balance and sent him to the floor.

Jeremy landed hard on his ass against the wall, the phone barely staying in his hand. He glared impotently up at The Vagabond towering over him and really would have loved to say something appropriately smart assed, but he was thrown off his game with sparking anger and fear of reproach.

“ _Good boy_.” Vagabond laughed. Then he walked out the door and Jeremy watched him go and his brain must have been fried because he spent those precious few seconds marvelling at the murderers’ great ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look. Things went so well. No-one got hurt. Well... No-one died.


	8. Ch 7 - Scent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan cools down after dealing with a certain thief and finally gets something to take his mind off things.

Ryan woke the next morning sore.

It was rare that someone actually managed to punch him in the face, or kick him in the knee. It was rare that a one on one was anything more than a warm up. 

He half opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. Ten in the morning. He felt the cooling space on the sheets next to him and sighed. He rolled up and sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, trying to convince his body that getting out of bed was a good idea.

Christ he hated mornings. He picked up his phone on the night stand and unplugged it and stood, pausing to step into a pair of sweats on his way into the kitchen.

He was greeted with the smell of bacon and he smiled.

“Morning.” Ben sang over the pan. The young man turned to smile at him. He was smaller than him, lean and pale skinned. Wearing only his boxers.

“You’re still here?” Ryan asked, circling around him to grab a coke from the fridge. “I hope you’re not on the clock anymore.” He teased and tapped Ben’s ass on the way to the couch; where he flicked on the news.

“Breakfast is free of charge.” Ben assured him. “Apart from the bacon I’m going to eat.”

“I’ll deduct it from your next pay.” Ryan offered and Ben laughed a little.

“Sure, just explain that one to Burns.” Ben told him, the sound of the cooker turning off and food being scraped onto plates drowned out the news. “I’m sure he’ll take it real well.”

Ben appeared next to him, handing him a plate with bacon and eggs on it and sat on the couch next to him.

“Want me to hire you as a cook as well?” Ryan smiled.

“I’m sure that it won’t pay as well.” Ben pointed out.

“Look better on a resume.” Ryan countered and Ben simply shrugged in reply.

“I’ll be fine.” The boy dismissed through a mouthful of bacon. “So,” Ben curled his feet up next to him and aimed his eyes at the TV, “who gave you that bruise I didn’t notice last night?” Ben asked, his tone cautiously nonchalant.

“You should see the other guy.” Ryan told him, a touch of warning to his voice.

“Worse than me?” Ben asked, using his fork to gesture towards the bite marks and bruising around his neck. Ryan swallowed a mouthful of bacon and cocked a smile at the younger man.

“He had a lot less fun.”

Bens smile dropped a few teeth and he made an agreeing noise and went back to watching the news talk about some inane human rights case in New York.

“Thanks for breakfast.” Ryan added, changing the topic. Ben replied with another smile.

“I can be a good boy.” Ben promised him in a pointed tone. Ryan felt lost and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his response. Ben shrugged. “I was a good boy last night.” He spoke as if it should ring a bell. It did not.

“What?”

“Just, you’ve never said that before. Felt kind of nice.” Ben told him. “Especially when you’re all in the moment.”

Ryan raised his other eyebrow, forming a blank expression.

“You know, you get all growly and demanding and then you said I was a _good boy_ when I-” he paused under the pretext of swallowing and diverted his eyes a little “-came for you.”

“I recall.” Ryan assured him. “Have I never said it before?”

“Well, not to me.” Ben shrugged. “I haven’t been asking all of your professional romantic liaisons.”

“Don’t put that on your resume either.” Ryan warned. Ben looked a touch crestfallen at that.

“You were pretty worked up last night.” Ben added. “Not that I take note of that or anything…” He added defensively. Quickly. “But, well, you don’t call me when you had a _great_ night. Usually you’re a little tense.”

“And last night was different?” Ryan asked, making a mental note being more careful around the kid.

Ben looked at him and tilted his head, finishing his last mouthful and spent a moment looking like he was mentally recounting the night, trying to put his metaphorical finger on it.

“Usually it’s like you want to switch off or change gears. Like a way to wind down. Then sometimes, like last night, it’s like you want to finish something.” Ben shrugged. “I don’t take all those psych classes for nothing, you know.”

“I didn’t hurt you, though?” Ryan frowned, taking a harder look at the marks that littered the younger mans neck, torso and extremities. Ben shook his head quickly.

“No, no, you just were a little rougher, more hands on. I’m not hurt.” Ben instinctively put a hand to his neck. “A little make-up and these’ll be invisible. I know the drill.”

Ryan smiled at the boy again, reaching up to run a hand through his short hair.

“Good boy.” He said softly.

He paused mentally, barely noticing Bens cheeks flushing a little before the boy grabbed their plates and went to wash up. Ryan recalled last night. Beating the shit out of the asshole little thief, teasing him with being their errand bitch. Putting him on his ass and then, like he was a dog, telling him he was a _good boy_. Jeremy had looked so pissed off about it, too.

Ryan had never suddenly had the urge to say something more. There were things in his life that turned him on that he’d rather not have known about and a lot of what he enjoyed had just been a part of an experience that he’d responded to.

He wasn’t usually so slow to catch on. He barely remembered saying it to Ben last night. He thought back, having kept the boy on the edge for so long, finally allowing him release and ordering him to come. And he had obeyed, like the good little bitch that he was.

Great. Now he had something else to explore.

“You alright?” Ben asked, leaning over the couch as he pulled on a shirt.

“Just thinking about life.” Ryan replied cryptically.

“Is this about the good boy thing? I’m sorry if bringing-”

“No, it’s fine.” Ryan shook his head. “Just… one of those things.”

“Okay, well, for the record, I kind of liked it.” Ben added. “You’re not usually a praise person, but I’m a slut for it.”

Ryan looked at the young male prostitute and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

“What?” Ryan said with false shock. “I never would have guessed.”

Ben sighed at the sarcasm and waved it off as he continued to dress.

“I have exams for the next couple of weeks.” He said, his business voice back on. “So if you need some company you’ll have to book one of the others.”

Ryan made an unhappy noise. He hated briefing new subs.

“Study hard.” He said aloud. Ben looked at him with his ‘as if I wasn’t already’ face.

“I always-” Bens smug reply was interrupted by a knock on the door and Ryan glanced at it and considered the short list of people who would be knocking on his door.

“I’ll go get dressed.” Ben said and closed the bedroom door after himself. Ryan pulled himself out of the couch and briefly considered finding a shirt before slouching over to the door as whoever it was knocked again. He opened the door to Ray, hand raised as if about to knock again.

“Someone’s impatient.” Ryan noted. Ray rolled his eyes and walked into the apartment without waiting for an invite.

“Someone needs to turn on their cell phone so Geoff doesn’t call Ray in to come see you.” Ray replied hotly, dropping a file on the coffee table and sitting on the couch. “I like this place better.” He said, indicating the windows. “Lots of light.”

“Bens in the other room.” Ryan warned before sitting on the couch adjacent to Ray as the younger man relaxed back into the pillows. “You seem relaxed.”

“I took it.” Ray smiled. Ryan tilted his head and let his happiness for his friend show.

“The offer?”

“Yeah, called it through last night.” Ray nodded. “You wouldn’t answer.”

“I was… otherwise engaged.” Ryan shrugged. Ray rose an amused eyebrow and, because the universe hated him, Ben walked out of the bedroom. He smiled at Ray and bounced to the door and waved goodbye as he left.

“Otherwise enga-”

“What’s the file?” Ryan cut him off.

Ryan sighed and leaned forward to flick it open.

“Congratulations, Ray, on avoiding federal charges and landing a job doing what you’re good at with Interpol.” Ray muttered dryly. “Gavin connected a few things together and found Cooperson at the end of the road.” Ray told him. “So the middle man we left without knee caps up on Mount Chilliad was telling the truth.”

“Shame I can’t give him knee caps back.” Ryan muttered, slightly amused, he leaned forward and picked up the file. Coopersons house, timetable, security layout and everything were outlined. “Whose cock did Geoff suck for this?” Ryan asked, mildly impressed at the depth of information. Ray shrugged.

“He just said that we’re hardly Coopersons only enemies.” Ray told him, flicking the file to the back and indicating the house security system. “It’s pretty advanced, even for you.”

“Gavin can’t get in?”

“Apparently it’s all local.”

Ryan frowned at it again and looked at the targets timetable.

“The only time he’s guaranteed to be there is two nights away.” He sighed. “That’s not going to be enough time. We might have to-”

“Nothing public.” Ray sighed, as if he knew where this was going.

“What?” Ryan snapped, looking up at Ray. “Why not? It would be so much-”

“Easier.” Ray nodded. “I agree. But Geoff said he wants to send a message to Coopersons partners, not make them scatter.”

Ryan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tossing the file on the table and letting it slide slightly. He considered his options and none of them looked overly successful. He'd have to get in the house without scaring Cooperson into a panic room or evacuation and then out again without causing too much of a stir. Though, If Geoff wanted a message sent it usually meant at least a few stray bodies needing to be stacked up. Ryan could feel his heart beat steadying, his mind focusing. Like a dog that suddenly found the scent. He had already started trying to plot ways in and out and, importantly, how best to go about the deed. He didn't know Cooperson, so he'd have to play to the moment. He really hoped Geoff didn't want to make a deal.

Ryan hated trying to negotiate with people he usually killed. He recalled that he wasn't alone, wondered briefly if Ray wanted to come and then reminded himself that Ray wasn't available for much now that he'd taken the offer. 

He glanced up at Ray, sitting silently waiting.

“Congratulations.” Ryan smiled. “I know it isn’t what you had in mind.” He added. “But you’ll be doing what you love. On government dime, no less.”

Ray half smiled.

“With all the red tape that goes with it.” He shrugged. Ryan waved a dismissive hand.

“You’ll have someone to handle that for you.” He said. “Plus, you wanted a change of scenery anyway.”

Ray raised an eyebrow at him.

“How did you know that?” He asked, only partly surprised. Ryan shrugged.

“When you’re in the game long enough, you can see when people are getting tired.” Ryan explained.

"And you never get tired, Rye?" Ray asked. Ryan indicated the file.

"Do what you love, never work a day in your life." He explained. Ray rolled his eyes.

"How're you going to get in?" Ray wondered aloud. "Stealth breaking and entering isn't exactly your forte."

Ryan looked at him, the back of him mind already annoyed because he suddenly knew why Geoff hadn't given this to him. He shrugged and shook his head. 

"I'll find a way in. Anyway, when do you leave?"

"Not sure yet." Ray admitted, sounding partly unsure and partly nervous. "Next week or so."

“This will be good for you." Ryan assured him. "You’ll see the world, get great gear and if anything goes wrong, you know that you’ll always be welcome here with us.”

“Unless you all get killed without me.” Ray noted. Ryan let out a long breath and considered their history.

“Well,” he nodded, “that certainly is a possibility.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: Sorry about the huge delay. I've had to move across the country and find new work and everything since I last posted and I have had the mind set to write. 
> 
> Secondly: Yes, this chapter is a little shorter and a little less loved than others. No, Ben is not based on anyone. No, I don't know how Interpol works. 
> 
> But, in good news, the next few chapters are... lets say fun.


	9. Ch 8 - Side jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy gets a call.

The first time the phone rang Jeremy was under the hood of a car, glaring at another goddamn oil cap that someone had forced on far too tight. He’d been halfway through trying to loosen the motherfucking thing when the orange phone went off and an obnoxious ring tone startled the shit out of him from his tool kit.

Jeremy swore and rolled out from under the car to answer it nervously. The screen flashed ‘Boss’ at him as he swiped.

“Hello?” He frowned, standing and looking around the shop to make sure no-one was listening in.

“Morning, Kid.” Ramsay’s voice said jovially. Jeremy paused and glanced at the time.

“It’s almost four.” He noted.

“Kid, I need your thieving skills, not your smartassedry.” Ramsay pointed out bluntly. “And I need you to meet Vagabond at Jackson Park this evening.”

Jeremy wanted to ask why, he wanted to say he was at work and couldn’t agree to this. He really wanted to argue. But he was still finding bruises and feeling stiff and sore from the last time he and the Vagabond had disagreed all over the concrete floor of the workshop; so he held his tongue. 

“What time?” he sighed instead, feeling annoyed at his own compliance. This was essentially blackmail or something like it. Work for us or we’ll bury you under the interstate. Was that blackmail? Or just threatening. He made a mental note to look it up later. At least he'd seen the bills getting paid for his family. And without that concern he'd actually slept a lot better the last few nights. Not that he wanted Ramsay to know that.

“Nine.” Ramsay told him. “And bring your gear, it might get rough.”

“Rough?” Wondering how bad a situation had to be before Geoff-takes-out-most-problems-with-a-fucking-rocket-launcher-Ramsay considered it ‘ _rough’._

“Have a good day!” Ramsay sang and hung up on him.

Jeremy stared at the phone. He’d been holding it for, what, three or four days? He’d made sure it was constantly charged and within answering distance. He’d made the terrible mistake of starting to hope it just wouldn’t go off very often. He sighed and shoved the orange phone back into his tool kit and picked up his personal phone. He texted his date tonight that he wouldn’t be making it due to a ‘work’ emergency.

Technically correct.

He glanced up and noticed Griffon frowning at him from her office, looking concerned. Not surprising as he’d spent most of a couple of days ago assuring her that the bruising was from a normal fight. Some drunk had managed to kick the shit out of him and then pin him so hard to a wall that his neck was basically purple.

Jeremy knew that Griffon wasn’t dumb. She’d been in Los Santos and known him long enough to spot a pattern of behavior. She would intervene if she felt that she needed to. Jeremy really didn’t want anyone else in his life on the Fake AH radar, so he gave her a small wave and she shook her head at him before turning and stepping back to her desk. Jeremy sighed. He didn't have a good way out of this situation and he hadn't figured out a way to protect anyone even if he did. He rubbed a hand over his face, considering going home early and taking a nap, because it seemed like it was going to be a long night. 

He was already exhausted.

By the time nine o’clock had rolled around Jeremy had almost worked himself into such a state of anxiety he doubted he was going to pull off looking anything other than scared shitless.

He’d gone home, tried and failed to sleep and then changed into his ‘side job’ outfit, black pants and shirt. Boots, gloves and his basic kit. The park was well dark by now and Vagabond had had to text him where he was. In the far corner, close to the pier, where the trees blocked the view from the road and most of the park.

The Vagabond was, of course, dressed for the occasion. Jacket and jeans and mask. Jeremy figured the man had weapons aplenty hidden under his jacket (lord knows there was no room in his jeans - _focus Dooley_ ) and wondered mildly if he had the taser again.

Jeremy, on the other hand, had worn his reinforced gloves and steel toed boots. He didn’t own a gun and wasn’t about to try buying one with his record. He did have a couple of knives on him, his lock-picks and a few other useful thieving items tucked away into his belt and the pockets of his work pants. He sort of expected The Vagabond to be smoking, but he wasn’t. He was just sort of sitting on the bench that looked towards the shipping yards in lonely silence.

“Evening.” Jeremy said cautiously as he moved towards the bench. The man didn’t move, so Jeremy assumed he knew who was approaching.

“Let me be clear,” The Vagabond told him without looking at him, “I didn’t want you on this.”

“You’re hurting my feelings.” Jeremy replied dryly, sitting heavily on the bench next to the bigger man, ignoring his survival instinct telling him to run. “I don’t really want to be here, either, so…” He shrugged, internalising a question about exactly _why_ Vagabond didn’t want him here. He felt like he was intruding somehow.

Vagabond glanced at him, picked up a manila folder and handed it to him. Jeremy frowned at it.

“Do I really need to read this?” He asked, realising how tired he sounded. At least he wasn’t still sore from the gym this morning to add onto the feeling. “I love plausible deniability.”

The Vagabond chuckled slightly and Jeremy stared at him as he did so. It rumbled low his the mans chest and Jeremy was hit with the fact he’d made the most dangerous man in Los Santos _laugh_.

“No deniability for you.” He replied after a moment. “This is the man who hired Charlie to hire someone to steal from us.”

“Ah.” Jeremy nodded, keeping the frown off his face and flicked the folder open. There was a picture of a man, bald with an obsessively groomed beard. He was talking to someone. The photo had been taken without his knowledge and, below the photo, there were details about his movements living arrangements and staff.

“ _Ah_.” Jeremy said, catching on.

“Ezra Cooperson. His company is called Fullscreen. Production companies are good for laundering, large amounts of money move without raising any eyebrows. Lots of investors.” Vagabond explained, leaning back on the bench a little. “He’s been trying to ‘acquire’ some of the Fake shell companies for some time.”

“And your boss would like him…” Jeremy looked at The Vagabond, knowing his discomfort was showing, “Dealt with?”

The way Vagabond angled his head, the tone with which he next spoke, all told Jeremy that the man was grinning from ear to ear.

“Not so dumb.” He remarked. “I need someone to get me in and out of the building… quietly.”

“Great.” Jeremy sighed, looking over the building plans.

“You look uncomfortable.” The Vagabond remarked, not sounding any less amused. “Problem with my work?”

Jeremy glanced at him and measured his response.

“Not particularly.” He admitted. “I just don’t really want to see it firsthand.”

Silence for a moment as he studied the alarm systems and a quick write up of the guard patterns. This was the kind of intel one would have to pay a lot for.

“We don’t have all night.” Vagabond pointed out. Jeremy looked at him, moving so sharp he almost felt dizzy.

“We’re doing this tonight?” He demanded, voice lowering a little. The Vagabond moved forward on the bench, turning slightly to show how little he appreciated the attitude. Jeremy didn’t back off, being scared was one thing but he was a professional damn it. “You’re giving this to me _now_?”

“Problem?” The man asked calmly.

“This…” Jeremy looked at it. “I need time to-”

“You don’t have time.” The Vagabond said, standing. “I'm going in tonight, this is the only window we have.” Jeremy looked up at him and the man moved slightly and stood in front of him, a little too close to be considered comfortable. Jeremy resisted the desire to lean back. 

"Why didn't you ask me sooner?" Jeremy tried to keep the anger out of his voice. It didn't really work. "With more prep-"

"Because if you are as useful as Ramsay believes," The man said coldly, reaching down to pluck the folder out of Jeremy's hands, "then this wont be an issue." Without the file as distraction Jeremy was almost forced to look upward at Vagabonds motionless mask. "And if it in an issue?" The man tilted his head slightly. "Then you're not as useful as you need to be."

Jeremy felt the burning reply he'd had cooking on his tongue die and he ground his teeth in silence. Of course Vagabond was testing him. He wanted him to fail. This guy was either going to get him killed or kill him himself. Jeremy very rarely felt so far from in control. He took a breath. 

"One condition." He said carefully. Vagabond shook his head. 

"You're not in a position to bargain here, Dooley." Jeremy almost flinched at his own name. 

"Christ." He breathed. "Tim is my work name." He didn't let Vagabond retort to that before adding; "And if you want me to get you in so you can do your job; then you let me do mine." Jeremy told him firmly, indicating the file. "You give me ten minutes to study it, at least, and then while we're getting in you let me work." He took a breath. "By which I mean, don't fuck me around. If I ask you to do something, I need you to do it. If you actually want to get in I need you to trust me to do what I do." 

There was a long silence after Jeremy finished. Vagabond was still looking at him, his dark mask aimed downward as it considering him. He bounced the file in his hand slightly. 

"Alright, _Tim_ _."_ Vagabond nodded slightly. "You get me in and I'll let you lead. But it seems only fair that if I get to watch your work, you should watch mine." Jeremy resisted cringing visibly, but wasn't sure if he hid the discomfort. 

"I-" Jeremy started.

"This isn't a negotiation." Vagabond warned and he turned and started walking towards the road. “And you don’t actually have a choice. I will throw you over his perimeter fence if I have to and drag you with me.”

Jeremy moved to follow the man quickly.

“Not necessary." Jeremy assured him. "Plus we’re not going over the fence.” Jeremy snapped as he jogged to catch up with him. “Where’s the nearest Dominos?”

The man unlocked a car and rounded it to get in, pausing before he vanished into the interior.

“Why? You have some overwhelming desire to be killed next to a pizza joint?”

Jeremy laughed nervously and got in the car. The file landed on his lap and Jeremy flicked it open before explaining himself.

“Not particularly, but it’s actually going to be pretty easy getting in.” He explained over the engine turning over and revving. “Getting out is going to be the hard part.”

Vagabond made a scoffing noise behind his mask as he accelerated down the highway towards the expensive district Cooperson lived in. Jeremy looked at him briefly before turning back towards the folder.

Rough, Ramsay had warned.

Jeremy hoped he hadn’t been right.


	10. Ch 9 - Night Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has a job to do and Jeremy is along for the ride. 
> 
> Warning: pretty cold violence in this chapter. Also suggested and non-consensual drug use (minor)

The kid had gotten him in. A hell of a lot easier than if he’d tried it by himself, or with the rest of the crew. Subtly wasn’t exactly their game. But Jeremy?

He was all about being friendly, charming and striking when it was least expected.

The pizza and delivery car had gotten them in the gate and near the rear entrance to the house, thanks to Dooleys skill at talking shit. His ability to climb almost vertical surfaces had got them a foot hold on the first floor, dragging Ryan along with him. Ryan was itching to take a few guards out on the way up, but Jeremy managed to find them a route up to the man’s personal bedroom without running into anyone. It involved timing cameras and hauling themselves up drainage pipes, but they had made it.

Cooperson was with a woman, because of course he was, and the room was dim when Ryan entered it, after his pet thief had unlocked the balcony doors quickly and almost silently.

They were on the bed as Ryan crossed the room quietly, the woman on top of her lover, naked and beautiful in the low light. She was the first to notice him, choking out surprised and half managed words of fear. She went dead still and Ezra angled his head to see what had startled her.

He went to yell for his men, went to roll out from under the woman and run, but Ryan was faster. He was at the bedside before the man could make a noise, leaning his weight through the palm he plastered over the mans mouth. His weapon was free before he stopped moving, pointed in their general direction.

The woman hadn’t moved, but was frozen in silence and terror. Ryan aimed the mask at her.

“Off.” He ordered roughly. “Quiet.” He added. She nodded quickly and Ryan didn’t turn around as he heard someone messing in the dresser drawers behind him. He gripped Ezras face hard and moved to straddle the man on the bed, sitting heavily onto his chest as the woman backed away from them, shaking, her hands over her mouth in a silent scream, tears running down her face.

“Hey.” Jeremy said, appearing next to her, a syringe in his hand. “Sorry.” He added, holding the womans arm and surprising her with an injection of clear fluid.

Ryan angled his head towards him as he caught the woman as she stumbled and, a moment later, lay her on her side. Unconscious.

He went back to what he was doing, his weapon pressed into the business moguls forehead, pulling his skin and making the man grunt in pain. He lifted his hand, making a silencing motion with it as he went.

“What do you want?” Ezra snarled at him, trying to look brave even though Ryan could practically smell the terror on him. He smiled behind the mask.

Do what you love, never work a day in your life.

“Honestly?” Ryan asked. “I’d love to torture you five ways till Sunday. But Ramsay asked me to have a conversation with you.”

Ezra made a scoffing noise, shifting awkwardly under him, red faced and too terrified to be ashamed of how naked he was. Ryan was very aware of Jeremy watching on, slowly moving around the room.

“He sent _you_ for a conversation.” Ezra snarled. “ _Right_.”

Ryan shrugged. Dude had a point.

“You hired someone to rob me.” Ryan pointed out. “Not particularly nice of you, when our talks were going so well.”

“Well?” Ezra demanded, anger in his tone firming his voice from its fearful shaking. “Ramsay’s been blue balling me for months. Holding shit over so I can’t make _any_ deals. You got any idea how much money I’ve lost?!”

“You’re the one who wanted to do business, Ezra.” Ryan reminded him softly, watching how pale the man went at the tone of his voice, at the mention of his name. Endorphins flooded into him, and he had to fight down the urge to laugh at the man. “It isn’t our fault you don’t know how to take no for an answer.”

Ezra didn’t reply, his eyes flicked around the room, around his immediate vicinity as if he’d just realised the desperate need to get out of this situation. Ryan covered his mouth quickly before he got any ideas about yelling for help. Ezra started sucking in deep breaths of air though his nose. He dug his fingers into the man’s jaw and couldn’t help but chuckle as the media mogul started to panic, started to struggle under him. Ezra pulled at his wrist, to free his mouth, and pushed at the gun to move it from his head.

Ryan held tense, still above the man slowly start to realise his predicament below. He waited and smiled.

The struggle went on, his feet kicking at the bed, trying to lever Ryan off of his chest. His head twisting and turning to try and get away from the gun, his teeth trying to bite at the flat of his glove to free his mouth. Ryan could hear the muffled expletives from behind the hand.

Eventually the man stilled, eyes wide with fear and muscles shaking from exhaustion and terror. Ryan removed his gun and placed it into his holster, Ezras eyes tracking his every move. He found his knife instead and Ezra made a whimpering sound from behind Ryans hand.

“I’m going to lift my hand, Ezra.” Ryan told him softly. “And you’re going to tell me, very quietly, why I shouldn’t kill you.”

The man stared at him as Ryan peeled the palm of his hand away, his fingers still pressing into the mans face, but freeing his mouth.

“Please.” Ezra said quickly, voice barely a whisper. “I can… I can pay you.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Cooperson.” Ryan told him firmly. “None of us are. If we were, we would have taken your deal.”

“I… Whatev… Whatever you want…” Ezra tried. “I’ll pull out of the talks, I’ll stop contacting your companies… I’ll…” His eyes tracked Ryan quickly, as if looking for the right answer. “I’ll give Ramsay control over the companies in his territory… _Pleas-_ ”

Ryan pressed his hand down again, muffling the mans words. Ezra shook his head quickly, trying to assure him he had more to offer. Ryan sighed, making it an obvious movement through his chest.

“Shame.” Ryan told him, leaning down so the edge of his mask was bare inches away from his face. “Boss would have liked that. But… You did send someone to my apartment.”

He pressed the knife down on the mans’ throat, watching his carotid pulse jump under the blade, hands suddenly scrambling to pull him off, legs trying to kick their way free of his weight, tears falling down the mans face. He was pale and blotchy with terror and need and Ryan saw flashes of the real man in front of him in his dark eyes.

A coward who liked money. A rich boy who liked getting his way. Who had always taken what he wanted and was now, very suddenly, faced with the hard, cold reality of life in Los Santos.

“You don’t cross the Fakes.” Ryan snarled.

Then he opened the artery under his knife and dragged the blade through the throat as the blood first welled and then sprang up towards him with the force of the man’s heartbeat. He felt it hit his mask and neck and jacket and the man under him made a convulsing sound of pain and fear and tried to stop the blood flow uselessly with his rapidly weakening fingers.

Ryan sat and waited. He watched the mans’ brain shut off his consciousness, watched the blood pressure fall as his heart stopped being able to supply blood. Watched the life drain out of the face under him and only then did he lift his hand from his mouth and move off the bed.

Jeremy was watching him in silence, pale and tense after watching him work. Maybe just in general discomfort, but more likely because _he’d_ been the man Ezra had technically sent to his apartment.

Kid looked as terrified as he’d been when he’d first seen Ryan in his mask at the shop. But he stood his ground and looked at the girl on the floor when Ryan made a questioning gesture with his hand.

“Ten of Midazolam.” He explained. “All sorts of drugs in his drawers. She won’t remember pretty much anything up to ten or fifteen before the dose.”

Ryan frowned at the kid as he put his bloodied knife away and wiped his hands on his jeans, knowing they left dark red marks.

“You sure?” He pressed.

“I’m sure.” Jeremy nodded, glancing at his jeans and turning away towards the door. “Same way we came in?” He suggested and headed back towards the balcony they’d broken in through.

“Sort of.” Ryan agreed, catching up with him and grabbing him by the arm. The young thief tensed and went to pull his arm away as Ryan pulled him towards the railing and motioned down to the pool directly below.

Jeremy, obviously surprised he wasn’t getting free of the grip on his arm, looked down at the pool and then back up at Ryan. His response already written on his face.

“We are four floors up!” He breathed quietly. “No!”

“It’ll wind you, but you’ll be fine.” Ryan assured him. Jeremy tried to pull away again.

“Fuck that.” He snarled as covertly as he could. “We’ll draw attention to the fact we’re here. Let’s just get out of dodge before one of his idiots realises what’s happened!”

Ryan studied the kid for a moment and had to chuckle again. Jeremy’s eyes snapped to his.

“Dooley…” He started, shaking his head. “Are you _afraid of heights_?”

“No.” Jeremy replied far too quickly. “I’m afraid of falling to my death.”

“You climbed up the top five floors of a high rise!” Ryan laughed, trying to keep his voice down. Jeremy glared at him in the half light from the room behind them.

“I trust my hands.” He growled. “I _don’t_ trust a pool. Or you!” He twisted his arm free finally and stepped back to massage it. “And, like I said, you don’t think the guards will notice someone hitting the water from the top story?”

“I don’t really care.” Ryan shrugged. “Stealth part is over. I need some exercise.”

Jeremy stared at him, opening his mouth to respond and shutting it again with a shake of his head. Ryan reached out and caught the front of his shirt before the kid could escape backwards, spun him so he was against the railing and the kid got out;

“Don’t you fucking dare-” Before Ryan essentially lifted him up and let him fall over the balcony. Ryan moved sideways, checked his landing, and jumped after him.

He briefly wondered how deep the pool was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! I loved writing this chapter (yes, I'm weird) because it feels like a different pace to how I usually do violence. 
> 
> Loves.


	11. Ch 10 - Ramification

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy got them into the house easily. But Vagabond is apparently set on making it hard on getting out.

Jeremy couldn’t breathe as he hauled himself out of the water and onto the decking. He heard a splash next to him and a murmur of voices beyond the wall.

In other news: _Vagabond was an asshole._

He found his feet, sucking air into his abused lungs and wondered if he could go a week without nearly breaking all of his ribs or being terrified out of his mind.

First, he’d had to watch Vagabond hold down a naked man and slit the guys throat after almost promising to let him go. Then the hit-man had stood up and moved like he was a fucking terminator, suddenly full of energy and confidence and almost glowing with his kill, and Jeremy was struck by how much Vagabond had already said he’d hated him. He’d never been more simultaneously aroused and terrified in his life and he was mother-fucking furious about it.

Then the man had thrown him off a fourth story balcony.

_Asshole._

Vagabond emerged from the pool as if he was barely fazed by the impact and emptied his jacket and mask of water. Jeremy watched him, fully aware of someone leaning out a door somewhere, spotting them, and running back inside for back-up. He looked back at Vagabond as he put his jacket back on and shook himself slightly, water spilling from his previously tight jeans which were now simply clinging to his legs.

“You’re an asshole.” Jeremy accused.

The man shrugged his wide shoulders under his leather jacket

“You’re heavier than you look.” He threw back and Jeremy was too pissed off to be offended about a jab at his weight. He rolled his eyes.

“There were cars around the front of the house.” Jeremy told him, moving towards the gate in the fence.

“But we parked around the back lawn.” The man pointed out, voice still rough as if he was forcing it. Jeremy took the keys he’d jacked out of Coopersons room and dangled them as he opened the gate.

“But his Mercedes is probably around the front.” He replied, not able to quell the smirk he spoke with. This time Vagabond actually laughed and Jeremy nearly had a heart attack. The guy was scary as hell, had just murdered someone and was about to be attacked by a personal security mob and he had the _most adorable fucking laugh_ Jeremy had ever heard.

He was too gay for this shit.

He shook himself, pocketed the keys and inched up to the corner of the house. He could hear movement and orders and yelling spreading through the house. Vagabond, of course, didn’t appear to care and rounded the corner, weapon in hand, as if he was walking down the street.

“Christ.” Jeremy muttered as the gunfire started. He followed quickly, not wanted to be left to Coopersons men without a little back-up. He watched as the two men yelling into their radios rocked backwards. Vagabond firing at them while walking. His shoulders and the stance he’d paused in looked awkward but his shots were perfectly on target as Jeremy cringed at the brain matter against the wall.

Jeremy had to break into a jog, following The Vagabond closely as the man moved to get around the side of the building quickly. Jeremy could hear the buzz of radios going. They slowed, matching each others speed and step in silence, Jeremy surprising himself as how professional he felt right now. He was distracted quickly by the noise of boots and hushed orders. He noticed Vagabond glancing to him and tried hard to decipher the hand signal the hit man sent his way as a group of maybe six guards were suddenly in his personal space.

Jeremy moved without thinking, silencing his surprised expletive and moved to the left as Vagabond had indicated. They were close enough to get to before they started firing and Jeremy thanked his lucky stars. He barreled into one of them and sent the man sprawling to the ground. The weapons around him were holstered – he guessed because of proximity – and he went to work avoiding getting punched. He heard bullets being fired a few meters away and hoped Vagabond didn’t accidentally shoot him.

Instead he rushed forward, stopping on the fallen mans hand and kicking the gun into the bushes beyond. There was an arm around his throat and Jeremy moved back before the guy had his weight, squatted and sent the guy over his shoulder in a throw, dropping his knee into the chest of the man on the ground to send his comrade rolling onto the concrete with a thud and a sick _crack_ that Jeremy assumed was his head.

A foot hit him in the side and Jeremy grunted in pain, rolling the force of the kick off and springing to his feet. The woman danced forward, faster than Jeremy had expected and was hitting him before he had his guard up. Jeremy rocked backwards, a little dazed, and moved forward with a blow to her sternum. She stood strong and Jeremy was about to kick at her when her head jerked sideways the same time as a gun being fired rang in his ears.

Blood spattered onto the concrete beside her and the woman hit the floor, blood leaking from her head.

Jeremy looked up at Vagabond, himself now looking at the six bodies on the floor. He levelled his weapon at the first guy Jeremy had dropped and fired, twice, into the man’s chest. He followed suit on another. Jeremy grimaced in reply, but didn’t comment as they turned the corner to the front of the house. The Mercedes was parked on the gravel drive as they emerged from the garden, like the light at the end of the tunnel.

Jeremy jogged towards the car and, out of nowhere, felt someone take him down from the side. He grunted in pain, rolled on the gravel and kicked upwards. He struck out, catching something, and scrambled backwards onto his feet. The man… actually Jeremy couldn’t tell, person went to follow him and Jeremy kicked them in the face. They reeled back as Jeremy saw Vagabond kick another guard away from him and calmly start to reload.

Then Jeremy started as an arm wrapped around his throat, instantly dragging backwards and the unmistakable feeling of a muzzle pressed into his temple. Jeremy froze, only moving to follow whoever was holding him as the dragged him back a little. The Vagabond fired at the man on the ground, looking up to see Jeremy being held hostage by a guard and, as far as he could tell, a couple of his friends. There was a long moment of silence as the masked man leveled his weapon towards the guards and Jeremy silently hoped he got the chance to get away before the firing started.

“The Vagabond himself.” The man holding him said. “I’m almost honored. To what do we owe this?”

“I killed your boss.” The hit-man replied, calmly, after a moment. The man holding him went tense, gripping Jeremy’s neck even harder.

“Wha-” He sputtered in disbelief before Vagabond cut him off.

“Slit his throat.” The man explained calmly. “About ten minutes ago.”

Silence.

“Put down your gun.” The man holding him ordered, controlling his voice.

Jeremy’s companion tilted his head slightly and didn’t move.

“I think we both know I’m not going to do that.”

“I will shoot your friend in the head.” The guard spat. “Put it down.”

“Go ahead.” Vagabond shrugged. “Save me the trouble.”

Jeremy glared at him as much as he could with a gun pressed against his temple.

“Then what are you waiting for?” The man demanded. Vagabond shrugged again.

“He’s my driver.” He admitted.

“Well, how about I find him a new profession?” The guard holding him asked firmly. “I’m sure you’d both make great additions to our catalogue.”

Jeremy was confused for a moment, until Vagabond replied;

“We would.” The man agreed icily. “But you’re not going to sell us as sex slaves, my friend. Let go of him and I promise I’ll make this quick.”

Jeremy tensed a little at the surprising knowledge. In fairness, he hadn’t asked what Coopersons other businesses were. He felt his work-clinical bubble expand and break. He felt numb and angry and confused all of a sudden.

He wished he didn’t know.

He felt the man behind him chuckle slightly.

“We both know you can’t kill all three of us before I put you down. Why don’t you just come quietly?”

Silence from the Vagabond. His face angled slightly towards Jeremy, as if signalling him for something.

“I haven’t got all night, Vagabond. Now that Coopersons gone, someone’s going to have to sample the merchandise.” The guy holding him added, pulling Jeremy tighter against his chest and moving his weapon so he could run it down Jeremy’s side and across his hip toward his groin.

A jolt of electricity went through Jeremy as he felt the contact, rage bubbling up to the surface as he watched the Vagabond move slightly. Jeremy arched back, gaining space as the weapon pressing into his junk went to aim upwards at the Vagabond. He twisted and slammed an elbow back into the mans face who was holding him, sending him scrambling for balance as shot rang out around them. He took the man to the ground as he spun, the gun scattering out of his hand, and straddled the guards’ chest.

He punched him in the face, no idea why he was so incredibly angry at the man (except he did know, he knew exactly why), and he did it again. It was easy enough to brush aside his guard and put all of his weight down through his fists as his reinforced gloved rearranged the guys face. Then there was a grip at his shoulder and Jeremy slapped it away, spinning to glare at the Vagabond standing behind him.

“Down boy.” Vagabond told him, half amused. “You got him, kid.”

Jeremy looked at the mans bleeding face, felt the pain in his knuckles and stood, shoving past the Vagabond as the man put a bullet into the guard to ensure he was dead. He unlocked the car and rounded to the drivers side door, in and starting the car before the Vagabond followed suit.

He could feel the Vagabond watching him as he peeled down the driveway, barely slowing for the gate as they opened to let the Mercedes pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all of you lovelies are enjoying. Trying to update a little more regularly. 
> 
> Loves!


	12. Ch 11 - Getaway

Dooley could drive. Ryan could say that, he took corners faster than he should and kept the car steady. He was better behind the wheel than Gavin was, leagues better than Geoff. He drove in silence, still red and angry from his interaction with the guard. Ryan didn’t ask. He knew better than that. He’d seen the blank expression and explosion of rage as the kid had realised what the guard was suggesting.

He knew history when he saw it.

Not that he cared, but he didn’t want to have the thief accidentally wrap them around a tree, so he backed off and let the kid drive back to where they’d left the crew car, some twenty minutes away if the kid ever slowed to drive like a normal person.

“You’re going to get us pulled over.” He pointed out. Jeremy glanced at him and slowed down a little, his grip easing on the wheel and a deep breath releasing from his chest.

“You threw me off a balcony.” He accused. Ryan smiled.

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“And drew the attention of the guards.” Jeremy added.

“I did.”

“And then made sure they were all dead.”

“You’re not wearing a mask.” He pointed out and Jeremy glanced at him for a brief second.

“We could have gotten out without being noticed.” The kid replied.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Ryan chuckled.

“I got thrown off a balcony.” Jeremy snarled. “And nearly shot in the head.”

“You’re fine.”

“We killed like ten people on the way out.”

“They decided to attack us.” Ryan noted, not bothering to correct his low estimate.

“We were there to kill their boss!” Jeremy said shrilly. Ryan frowned.

“You’re not taking this well.” He noted.

“No?” Jeremy asked dryly. “Does it seem like I’m not comfortable with the fact that you murdered a man in his bed, then was almost about to murder his girlfriend before shooting your way out of a building with an unarmed thief next to you?”

Ryan watched him drive for a moment, his anger toning differently now, his minor freak out forgotten. Then he registered the comment he'd added. He paused, feeling his own annoyance creep into his voice.

“You’re _unarmed_?” he asked, feeling scandalised. Who the fuck-

“Aside from the knife I use to open latch doors?” Jeremy said. “Yeah!”

“Why _the fuck_ aren’t you armed?” Ryan demanded. Jeremy shot him a look.

“I have a criminal record and am scraping by with a living wage while supporting most of my family.” Jeremy pointed out. “Where the ever-loving- _fuck_ am I meant to get a gun?”

“You should have asked.” He said. “Next time you _will_ be armed.”

Jeremy tightened his lips, either not loving being told how to do his job or annoyed about doing this again, and pointedly didn’t look at him.

“You said in and out of the building _quietly_.” Jeremy reminded him, indicating and pulling into the alley where they’d parked. No CCTV, no police patrols and no clear views from windows.

Only witness to see them park was a junky shooting up halfway down the alley. He wasn’t telling anyone shit.

Jeremy got out of the car, obviously annoyed, and left the keys in the ignition. He didn’t walk towards the crew car, but headed towards the street. Ryan was out of the car a second later.

“Stop.” He barked, hoping the warning came through in his voice. Jeremy stilled just beyond the rear bumper of the car. Ryan slammed his door shut and rounded the car to stand in front of Jeremy. He knew his blood was up, knew he was easily irritated right now, and angry as hell that this stupid little thief had let himself wander into a _fucking hit job_ without the protection of a side arm.

“Why didn’t you say something?” Ryan asked. Jeremy glared at him, having to look up and refusing to take a step backwards.

“You didn’t ask.” Jeremy spat. “And you said _quietly_.”

Ryan closed his eyes and ground his teeth.

“So, you walked into a marks bedroom without a weapon?” He growled. “I thought you were meant to be smart?”

“I’m a thief, not a hit-man.” Jeremy snarled in reply. “And you dragged me into a firefight!” His tone growing condescending. “Which did _not_ need to happen.” Jeremy added, the kids eyes narrowing up at him. “Because you were bored. Thought it might be, what, fu-”

“Stop talking.” Ryan said quietly, Jeremy went silent instantly, maybe from the tone of the order or maybe from Vagabonds body language as the older man loosened his knees and curled his shoulders, fully expecting the small thief to react violently. He older man had had it all up to _here_ with this kids bullshit.

“We don’t do anything by halves.” Ryan bit out. “No-one crosses the Fakes.” He reminded the kid, watching his anger drain a little. “Be fucking glad that Geoff thought we needed a thief; because Ezra wouldn’t be the only one lying in a pool of his own blood.” Ryan warned, taking a small step forwards and was rewarded by Jeremy yielding ground and taking a step back so he was almost against the boot of the Mercedes. “Or, seeing how you reacted to the _situation_ back there, maybe you’d be hip deep in drugs and on the nearest trafficking boat out.”

He watched Jeremy’s temper rise, watched the tension roll up through his shoulders and into his jaw and, before the kid could argue or fight, Ryan snapped out another order of; “ _Quiet_.”

Jeremy snapped his mouth shut and Ryan saw his pupils dilate a little further and Ryan grinned down at him.

“For now, though, Geoff is on your side.” Ryan told him. “So just keep hoping we don’t find something much more difficult that my apartment to break into. Because the moment you’re useless? _You’re mine_.”

Jeremy didn’t break eye contact at the loaded threat, which Ryan had to respect, but he did watch the kid swallow slightly, watched his weight shift slightly, as if he was becoming uncomfortable. Ryan would have bet very heavily on why had he the chance, but after a few seconds of silence Jeremy spoke quietly.

“Your place really wasn’t that hard.”

Ryan glared at him his annoyance snapped into being vary fucking pissed off and a second later, before he’d really registered moving, he’d slammed the smartassed, disrespectful little shit down onto the boot of the Mercedes.

“Fuck.” Jeremy snarled, clearly in pain, bent at the wrong place despite his obvious flexibility.

“My tolerance for your smart mouth only goes so far.” Ryan warned as Jeremy tried to struggle free of his grip. “Don’t make me muzzle you just to put up with you. I really don’t want to rein you in on an even shorter leash.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Jeremy spat at him. “Let me up.”

“No.” Ryan leaned down slightly. “Stop struggling.” Jeremy glared at him and did not stop struggling against his grip, fighting to be more comfortable. “ _Now_.” Ryan warned.

Jeremy blinked at him and slowed a little, stopping still under his glare.

“I am going to let you up,” Ryan told him firmly, “and you’re going to go home. Do what you need to do to cool off. And next time we call you are going to be on your _best behaviour_. No back talk, no dumb secrets and no complaints. Am I clear?”

Jeremy glared at him from against the car, looking annoyed as hell while simultaneously looking horny as shit. Ryan put it down to adrenaline and proximity because, at this point, even Ryan felt the need to unwind.

“Am. I. Clear?” Ryan pressed. Jeremy rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He grunted. Ryan waited in silence for a long moment, letting Jeremy get there on his own. He growled out an expletive before adding; “Fine. Yes, you’re clear… Sir.” He added after a moment of indecision, as if he wasn’t sure what Ryan wanted. Ryan held his tongue as his reflex response of _good boy_ was starting to sound all too comfortable.

It would do, the older man figured, and he let the young thief up.

Jeremy straightened grimacing at the pain from the position and moved around him to leave. He said nothing else as he did so, vanishing into the Los Santos night and leaving Ryan, fuming, in the alley. 


	13. Ch 12 - Breaking Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy had too many close calls tonight to simply forget his frustrations.
> 
> So he find an outlet.

Jeremy found the nearest bar, an overwhelming urge to fight, fuck or drink himself to death growing in his chest as he left the Vagabond in the alley. He was practically shaking with the last vestiges of his adrenaline and anger. The pain from taking a few hits, being thrown off a balcony and then up against a car starting to throb under his skin.

He didn’t know what he needed, so he sat at the bar of a dingy back-street place probably full of people with long rap sheets and ordered a Makers on the rocks. He'd shed his gloves from the job and pined over his waterlogged phone, annoyed to find the obnoxious orange phone Vagabond had given him just fine after it's pool side visit. He sat in silence, looking over his bruised knuckles now they were free of gloves, and watched the ice start to melt in the dim light of the bar.

“You’re going to boil it.” Someone said from next to him. Jeremy glanced upwards. The guy was smiling, leaning over the stool against the bar, money in his hand as if waiting to buy another drink. Jeremy looked back at his glass.

“Too strong." He admitted. "Just trying to melt the ice.” Turning slightly to look at the man properly. He was taller than him, though that wasn’t hard, and was broad shouldered, had light brown hair and a scrubby beard not entirely dissimilar to Jeremy’s own.

“Considered breaking it?” The guy asked, a smirk on his face that said he knew it bad pun before he said it. Jeremy couldn’t help it, he laughed slightly.

“I’m just skating by, at this point.” Jeremy shrugged. He was rewarded with a wide, genuine smile form the guy. “Jeremy.” He said, holding out a hand.

“Adam.” The guy replied, shaking his hand firmly. He paused angling the hand slightly to see the scrapes and then taking in the fading and new bruises on Jeremy’s face and his overall posture of slight discomfort. “Rough night?”

“One way to put it.” Jeremy agreed, letting go. “Here with friends?”

Adam glanced over his shoulder and Jeremy followed his gaze to find a group of three guys and a woman sitting in one of the booths, talking among themselves.

“After work drinks.” Adam nodded.

“It’s nearly midnight.” Jeremy pointed out.

“We work late.” Adam shrugged and Jeremy knew better than to ask. “Here alone?”

“Like you said, rough day.” Jeremy nodded, draining half his drink in one go. Adam smiled.

“Can I buy you another round?” He asked and Jeremy glanced at him and smiled. Thank fuck someone had offered, because he’d been like five minutes away from starting a fight.

“Will your friends survive without you?” He joked. Adam sat on the stool.

“They’ll manage somehow.” He smiled.

 

Half an hour later Jeremy and Adam tried very hard to leave, barely managing to get out of the bar before Jeremy hauled Adam into him, mouths crashing together like he needed it to breathe. Adam growled in approval and leaned down and hauled Jeremy up and against the wall so he didn’t have to curl over him to get to his mouth. Jeremy grunted as he hit the wall, his chest still feeling the impact of the bricks (and the car, and a pool, and fifteen flights of stairs and his coach’s enthusiastic hatred for him landing properly).

“Sorry.” Adam said into his mouth.

“’s’fine.” Jeremy muttered, hands around the taller man’s neck and pulling him close, clinging like he was drowning. All his tension and anger and frustration at Vagabond starting to uncoil a little.

Adam leaned back a bit.

“Top or bottom?” He asked, sounding just as breathless as Jeremy felt.

“I don’t really care.” Jeremy replied, knowing full well some guys did.

“Neither.” Adam nodded. “I usually prefer top, but I’m goo-”

“That’s great.” Jeremy told him, shutting him up with a kiss. “Because I’d really like to be fucked into the closest flat surface.”

Adam made an involuntary sound into his mouth.

“The walls pretty flat.” He noted.

“Don’t fucking tempt me, Kovic.” Jeremy pleaded. “Please tell me you don’t live far.”

“If we ever make it to a cab, it’s like five minutes away.”

“Good.” Jeremy snarled.

One very heated taxi ride later (Jeremy threw a fifty at the guy as a tip to apologise for the non-pg rated things happening in the back seat) and the shortest elevator ride Jeremy had ever tried to kiss someone through they ended up in a corner apartment. Jeremy registered his exits, alarm systems and hiding places as an instinct, but really didn’t care as they collapsed onto the bed, Adam desperately trying to pull Jeremy’s shirt off while sitting on him.

Their kissing devolved into laughter as the man swore at the material and Jeremy ignored him, unbuttoning Adams shirt while he struggled.

“You’re sitting on it.” He told him.

“I know.” Adam laughed.

“Maybe stop sitting on it.” Jeremy suggested.

“No moving.” Adam ordered and Jeremy grinned up at him, spreading his hands in a ‘not doing anything’ motion of innocence. Adam lifted his weight, moving slightly so he was between Jeremy’s legs, laying over him and pushing his shirt up.

“Well done.” Jeremy said.

“Shut up.” Adam growled, leaning down to kiss him even as he pulled the shirt off and tossed it somewhere.

“Oh, hang on.” Jeremy paused, arching his hips and smiling at the noise Adam made as their groins rubbed together, and he freed his phones and wallet from his jeans.

“Why do you have two phones?” Adam asked, leaning down to kiss his jaw and shoulders and chest and anything else he could reach.

“One’s a work phone.” Jeremy explained, dropping the technology onto the guys nightstand so they didn’t get tossed around the room with his jeans. Then he busied himself trying to get Adam out of his pants and shirt. He struggled because Adam kept trying to kiss everything he could and kept distracting him with his mouth. Jeremy dragged a knee up, gripped Adam around the chest and flipped them over. Adam made a surprised noise and Jeremy looked at him from his thighs.

“Hey.” He smiled, undoing the taller man’s fly.

“Hi.” Adam nodded. “What was that about being fucked into a flat surface?” He asked. Jeremy smirked.

“Just want to warm up.” He replied, pulling Adams jeans out of the way, his boxers following as the man kicked them off to free his cock. It was already firm with arousal and Adams hands found his shoulders as Jeremy wrapped a hand around him.

“Thank fuck.” Adam groaned, his head tipping back. Jeremy moved lower, between the mans legs, and massaged his hand up and down his shaft, his other hand steadying himself as he lowered over Adams abdomen. He turned his attention downward. Adams dick was one of the better-looking cocks he’d ever had the pleasure of holding, he had to admit. Similar to himself in size, if not quite as well girthed. He didn’t mind, though, and revelled in the taste of masculinity, sweat and salt, as he licked a stripe up the underside of the shaft.

He felt Adam’s cock twitch in his hand, felt the man shudder under him and heard the man let out a deep breath.

He thumbed over the end of his cock, pressing against his slit gently as he explored the mans groin with his tongue. He could see Adams hand fist into his covers out of the corner of his eye and felt his other hand press into his hair. He smiled to himself and took the head of his cock into his mouth.

“Fuck.” Adam breathed. “Yes.”

Jeremy firmed his lips and sucked down slowly, letting himself press down onto the man below him. He felt the shudder roll through Adam and the hand in his hair gripped a little and Jeremy moaned at the slight pull. Adam muttered something he didn’t make out and Jeremy pulled away a little, drawing shapes with his tongue, his hand squeezing on what Jeremy’s lips couldn’t reach as he pressed down again. Adam arched into hip, his hips pressing up off the bed as the man moaned slowly as Jeremy sucked his cock into his mouth.

Then the hand in his hair tugged and pulled him up, Jeremy offered a little resistance to increase the pressure on his scalp and followed when Adam made a pleading noise through his nose. Jeremy looked up at the man as he sat off the bed, struggling to control his breathing, returning his gaze with a hungry look.

“C’mere.” He growled. “I’ve got a flat surface to fuck you into.”

Jeremy grinned, following his hand as the man tugged him up to press their mouths together, pulling his jeans open awkwardly as he multi tasked.

“Pants. Off. Now.” Adam breathed and Jeremy leaned back to comply quickly, the motion of freeing himself making his eyes close for a moment as he went about pulling his pants off his hips as Adam rolled over to open his bottom drawer and grab lube and a condom before rolling back to take Jeremy onto his back, his jeans still attached to an ankle. He kicked them off with a laugh that Adam breathed in with a kiss.

His hands started exploring down Jeremy’s chest, his thumb testing his nipples for how sensitive they are and Jeremy couldn’t help the small noises escaping from his mouth, breaths of encouragement. He pulled Adam into him, freeing a leg so he could wrap them around Adams thighs so he could pull him closer. He felt their cocks touch, rub together and he moved his hips to press them together. Their mouths parted with a moan and Adam pressed a hand into Jeremy’s chest to push him to the mattress.

“You cheeky fuck.” Adam accused, leaning down to speak into his ear, to roll his ear lobe into his mouth and press it between his teeth gently.

Sparks rolled up Jeremy’s spine and he made an involuntary noise with his mouth, Adams hand suddenly between them and grasping Jeremy’s cock firmly.

“Jesus, Jeremy.” Adam breathed. “You’ve got a pretty fucking cock.” He jacked his hand up and down a few times, drowning out Jeremy’s ‘thanks’ with moans of enjoyment.

Adam had to re-position slightly and Jeremy didn’t even notice the man spreading lube onto his fingers, Adams mouth distracting him by rolling his nipples between his teeth. Jeremy fought the overwhelming urge to pull Adams head firmer into his chest, try and get his teeth actually pressing downward without voicing it, but he resisted. Then he was distracted by the sensation of a finger massaging around his hole. He stilled and relaxed and let out a deep sigh as Adam pressed his finger inside him.

“Okay?” Adam breathed into his chest.

“All good.” Jeremy assured him, the slight discomfort giving way as he clenched down slightly onto the finger as it pressed all the way in and started drawing out.

Adam kissed his chest again, not quite able to reach his mouth, Jeremy dragged his nails lightly over the mans shoulders.

“Whatever made your day rough, I’m glad it got you to that shitty bar, staring pitifully into you drink.” Adam told him, swirling his finger around slightly and making Jeremy tense and press into him.

“I’m not… pitiful.” Jeremy managed in reply.

“No?” Adam asked playfully, a second finger pressing inside him and Jeremy tried to curl into it, Adams weight stopping him as warmth coiled and pooled in his gut. “You looked like a kicked puppy.” Adam told him and Jeremy shook his head slightly. “Adorable and sad.” The man went on.

Jeremy was far too masculine to be adorable, he thought to himself.

“No.” He said aloud. “Angry and sad.” He corrected.

“Sorry buddy.” Adam laughed, scissoring his fingers and making Jeremy’s cock twitch and his nails dig into the taller mans shoulders. “Adorable.”

“I’m a manly… man.” Jeremy argued, no heat behind his words. Adam curled his fingers slightly and Jeremy jolted off the bed, a moan getting though his clenched jaw.

“Sure are.” Adam agreed, pumping his hand slightly.

“More, you asshole.” Jeremy wanted to sound bored or annoyed but he just sounded pleading. Adam smiled into his neck.

“Be patient.” Adam cooed. “Relax.” He said it gentle and Jeremy found himself wanting Adam to be firmer. The Vagabonds sharp order of _stop talking_ playing in the back of his head and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. Adam pushed a third finger inside him slowly, Jeremy groaning at the stretch and slight discomfort.

“So good for me.” Adam sighed into him.

“Adam.” Jeremy breathed. “Please. I want you inside me. Stop treating me like your prom date and fuck me.”

Adam stilled for a second and Jeremy glanced up to see his questioning gaze.

“How’d you know I never fucked my prom date?” He asked, curious.

“It was a joke man, put your cock in me already.”

Adam laughed a little and withdrew his fingers and Jeremy shuddered as the felt them extract. The loss of sensation making his anus pucker a little and the small thief moaned a little with impatience.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re needy?” Adam asked with a smile, fumbling with a packet and putting the condom on.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re too nice?” Jeremy shot back good naturedly.

“I can be mean.” Adam offered, leaning over him and rubbing his lubricated cock along Jeremy’s crack. “If you want.”

“Sure, you can.” Jeremy grinned slightly, doubt in his voice.

Adam leaned down further and kissed his mouth as he guided himself to press into Jeremy’s slick and ready hole. Adam bit down on his lip, rougher than earlier but still gentle, and he pressed in firmly. He moved slowly, Jeremy pressing upward with his hips to try and quicken the process, and was hilt deep inside him a few seconds later.

They breathed into each other’s mouths for a long moment, Jeremy feeling his discomfort settle into pleasant fullness and stretch and Adam looking like he was trying to control himself.

“Fuck.” Adam breathed. “Fuck you’re hot... n'tight.”

“It’s been a while since I bottomed.” Jeremy admitted breathlessly.

“Fuck just… give me a sec.” The man nodded. Jeremy hummed out an agreement, reaching his hands up to curl around the back of Adams neck as the man steadied himself. He raised his knees a little, giving himself purchase on the bed and Adam breathed into his neck.

“Adam.” Jeremy said after a moment. “Please. C’mon. Move.”

Adam laughed slightly. Muttered ‘impatient’ under his breath and groaned as he pulled back. Jeremy shuddered under him, digging his nails into his neck, making Adam hiss with pain as he stroked back in.

“Sorry.” Jeremy muttered, angling his hips upwards desperately.

“It’s… ugh, it’s okay.” Adam replied, fucking into him as he built a steady rhythm. Jeremy moved in time, helping Adam hit the right spot each time.

“ _Christ_.” Adam breathed, kissing him deeply again and reaching between them to grip around Jeremy’s member. Jeremy growled in approval, trying to split his attention between maintaining the kiss and moving his hips in time with Adam.

“Harder.” Jeremy pleaded into Adams mouth. “Please.”

Adam made a grunt of acknowledgement and paused slightly to reposition himself to fuck harder into Jeremy’s ass. He felt Adam tensing and heating over him as his own pleasure pooled down towards his groin.

“I’m so close.” Adam managed.

“I’ve got you.” Jeremy assured him breathlessly.

Adam stroked into him, his hand squeezing almost to the point of discomfort around Jeremy’s cock, pre-cum leaking onto his hand. Adam growled out a few expletives and slammed in deep as his body shook with the coils of pleasure. Jeremy wasn’t far behind him, a few strokes on his cock and he moaned his own release, clenching around the softening cock inside him.

They breathed in each other for a moment until Adams weight dropped on top of him, cum squishing between them. Jeremy made a moan of disapproval and shook Adam slightly.

“I’m not moving.” Adam argued.

“Don’t make me pick you up.” Jeremy warned.

“Like you could, little man.” Adam laughed and held him tighter. “Just… for a moment.”

“Fine.” Jeremy sighed. “But if I have to shower to get this off, then that’s on you.” Adam laughed a little and shrugged on top of him, voice muffled by the covers.

“You want to sleep here?” He asked. “It’s cool either way.”

Jeremy hummed in agreement.

“To tired to deal with another cab.” He admitted, trying desperately not to fall asleep before they managed to clean up. Adam made a happy noise into his neck and his weight, if possible, draped over him even more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG sorry guys for taking so long to post this. I'm trying to be better with my online stuff. 
> 
> Also! If you're interested, I created a Patreon page. I'll still be posting fanfic stuff here, of course, but wanted somewhere I could start putting original content. I haven't done much with it yet, but plan to use it as a place to take requests or possibly commissions. Drop by if you want!


	14. Ch 13 - Unspool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan tried to unwind after a hell of a job and dealing with the idiot thief. 
> 
> He finds himself in an awkward corner of his mind.

By the time Ryan returned the crew car, got back to his new apartment and made his way through the back entrances and started unloading his gear onto his table he had managed to barely cool off. Jeremy riled him up, and he figured it was easy enough to understand. The kid had broken into his apartment, managed to escape unharmed and then somehow found his way into Geoff’s good graces and then, even more infuriatingly, managed to be fucking good at what he did. Irresponsible, sure, a little green to the world of the Fake AH crew. But _shit_ he had adapted quickly.

Ryan was split between still wanting to choke the life out of him and suggesting Geoff use him more regularly. Especially now that Ray wouldn’t be available. Different skillset, no doubt, but possibly just as useful. Ryan liked the idea of improving his reputation, was annoyed at the idea that Jeremy would be responsible for it. Cocky little shit.

Ryan pulled off his mask and jacket as his thoughts swum, kicking his shoes and clothes off onto the floor, as he moved towards the shower. There was a certain aspect of his current reputation that proceeded him, when he started working his way through guards, his marks knowing he was on his way, feeling trapped and helpless. But, he reasoned as he tested the water in his large, expensively decorated shower, if he appeared out of nowhere and made himself known only when he wanted to be…

Well it added a certain sense of mystery. He stepped into the shower, the almost too hot water washing off the sweat and grime of the night. Whatever blood had managed to hit his skin exposed under his jacket running off into the floor of the shower.

So; Dooley was useful. He was also a threat. Freelancing thieves had something of a reputation. They didn’t tend to be loyal when it came to a payday. The kid had tried to steal from them once and Ryan would not be surprised if he found his way into one of their apartments, or even the penthouse, again. Any number of things for their competitors, or the police to be willing to pay a lot of money for. And outside of Los Santos their influence was weak. Dooley wouldn’t have to go far to feel safe.

Ryan shook himself, glancing up at the steaming mirror to scrub the last parts of his face paint away, his hair coiling over his shoulder in the running water. He was tense. Angry. Too worked up to be using anyone new tonight. Ben was unavailable.

Shame he hadn’t tested Dooley’s attraction before he’d let him go. Kid was almost certainly into him to a degree. Whether his horniness overpowered his survival instincts was another question. Ryan leaned a hand into the wall of his shower, rinsing the sweat out of his hair from being under the mask for hours, and smiled to himself. It had been a long time since he’d seen someone so terrified while simultaneously hoping Ryan would just fucking _ruin_ him.

Ryan was used to the men he fucked being smaller than him. But Dooley was short to a point of contention. He was also strong, that had struck him during their first fight, Ryan had struggled to keep him pinned and under control. He was someone Ryan would have to work to hold down. That, more than anything else, spurred his mind in the hot shower.

_“You’re clear… Sir.”_ His tone hadn’t been genuine, or respectful. It had been rough and annoyed, frustrated even. But had been said out of fear.

_“Good boy.” Ryan had wanted to add. Knowing full well that Dooley would hate it. Knowing he’d try to stand, push against him, snarling something to prove he wasn’t a little bitch._

_But he was still against the boot of the car, bent in all the wrong places and no power behind his fight for freedom. Ryan would only have to shove his free hand over his mouth to quell the argument and shove a knee into thigh to prevent any kicks and the small thief would be helpless under him._

The water was warm and his eyes were closed. He started gently moving his hands over his abdomen and chest. It wasn’t responsible to think about the kid this way. But Dooley had made it very clear how he felt about the matter, so Ryan found his imagination running away from him with the idea.

_“Comfortable?” Ryan hissed at him. “Happy about your situation, Dooley?”_

_Jeremy couldn’t answer, just pulling at the wrist pressing his mouth closed._

_“I made it clear to you that we own you, right?” Ryan went on. “But if you’d be happier under the interstate, no-one paying your bills, I can oblige.”_ _His struggling slowed a little, his gaze settling onto Ryans._

_“The lesson doesn’t seem to be sinking in. I can see that’s frustrating you, I can also see it’s had another effect.” Ryan noted, pointedly glancing at the kids crotch. His hard on must be uncomfortable in the firm jeans pulled at an awkward angle. Dooleys face went redder under the distant street light, his jaw grinding a little harder under Ryan’s gloved hand._

_“Shall we try a more practical approach?”_ _Dooley, of course, couldn’t reply. He pointedly kept himself calm as Ryan had watched him try to do on multiple occasions now._

_“You seem uncomfortable.” Ryan went on. “Open your jeans, give yourself some more space.”_

_The kid froze a little, stiffening under him, like he wasn’t sure what he’d just heard. Ryan leaned down a little, as much as he could, so that he could speak a level quieter._

_“Do what you’re told, Dooley, or it will be done for you.” He warned._

_Dooley closed his eyes for a long moment, taking several deep breaths through his nose, and then moving. Quickly, clinically, snapping open the button on his pants and pulling the zip down. He shoved the waistband down, shifting his hips a little to free himself and then his cock was out. Ryan pointedly didn’t look at it._

_“Isn’t that better?” Ryan asked politely._ Ryan groaned into the showers spray, gently starting to massage his now very interested cock to life. _“What do you say?” Ryan added, lifting his hand slightly to release Dooley’s mouth. The kid frowned at him for a moment, as if trying to figure it out. “I let you get comfortable, be polite.” Ryan added pointedly._

_Dooley would hate that. He would be pissed about it, too. Not that that would stop him from replying, but Ryan could see his face coiling in anger, the discomfort over being exposed in a public alleyway, trapped and uncomfortable against a car._

_“Thanks.” Dooley spat. Ryan tilted his head down at him. Kid needed some manners. He kept one hand pressed into Dooleys neck, pinning him to the car, and use the other to grip around the base of his cock, applying pressure with his thumb and forefinger. Then tightened his hand around the kids neck, cutting of the blood supply to his brain, his face instantly going red, his hands scrambling to free his throat. He made half noises like he was trying to breathe and swear at the same time._

_And all it did was make Ryan harder_ as he stroked himself firmly in the shower, keeping his pace rhythmic and slow. He wanted to play this scenario out in his mind. He moved slightly to adjust the water temperature down a little, the hot spray having upped his body temperature just too much, and then resumed jacking himself from the thought of forcing Dooley to enjoy himself.

_“Please.” Dooley managed around his hand now that he’d stopped struggling._

_“Please what?” Ryan asked, twitching the fingers still locked around the base of the younger mans cock. His hips moved a little, his foot pushing against the bumper for purchase and made a motion like he was trying to fuck into Ryan’s hand._

_“Just…” Dooley breathed, his eyes scrunched closed, “move.”_

_“Sure.” Ryan grinned, letting go of the dick in his hand and reaching up to shove two fingers into the thiefs mouth. Dooley made a noise of surprise, grimacing either from the taste or the force of the fingers swirling around his tongue. Ryan retracted them just as quickly, his gloves covered in saliva as the kid made confused panting noises. Ryan had to shift his position a little, tug the dark jeans out of the way, and move quickly to find Dooley’s asshole._

_“Fuck.” Dooley breathed, freezing on the car. Ryan didn’t wait for permission or denial, he pressed one of his gloved fingers inside the younger mans tight ass._ _Ryan hoped Dooley was as much of a bitch as he thought. Arcing under him and clenching down on the intrusion, begging non-verbally for more._

_“How’s that?” Ryan asked. “Enough movement for you?” He pressed his second finger in alongside the first, the saliva giving him enough lubrication to do so. Dooley shuddered around him, one hand staying on the wrist holding him down and the other, almost unconsciously, moving to grip his own cock in the dim street light. Ryan watching him for a moment, his hand grabbing his hard, already leaking cock clumsily. Ryan pressed his fingers in deep, hooking them up and into a rocking motion. Dooley made a garbled noise of pleasure, bucking onto his hand._

_Ryan stopped and pulled away, grabbing a handful of hair as he went. Dooley swore in surprise but followed him as Ryan dragged him up and off the car, the thief stumbling on his feet and using the car to support himself as Ryan hauled him around and shoved him against the open passenger side door frame. Dooley braced his hands on the roof of the Mercedes, his pants falling to his knees and leaving him bare assed, his dick still out and hard and now dripping onto the plush interior of the Mercedes he’s stolen._ _Ryan held him still with a hand in his hair, pressing his face against the edge of the roof._

Ryan firmed his grip on himself, leaning back to lean against the other wall, the shower running down his chest. He allowed himself to grip a little firmer.

_“Stay.” Ryan ordered. Dooley had followed every other order without issue, he doubted he would move. Ryan lifted his hand, releasing his hair and Dooley twisted a little to free his face from the edge of the car roof._ _Ryan leaned back and enjoyed the sight for a second. The dumbass little thief that had caused him so much of a headache, half naked and hard for him, apparently willing to do whatever he was told. But still. Such an attitude._

_His cock was free and he was against Dooley in a matter of seconds, whatever he’d used to slick himself up already warming on his skin. He pressed himself against the young mans ass, having to bend his knees to do so, letting the thief feel the dick sliding against his cheeks._ _Dooley tensed but didn’t move. Nor did he speak._

Ryan had to smile to himself. It had been a long time since he’d done anything outside the safety of his apartment. Even longer since he’d been in the mask at the time.

_Ryan reached one glove over Dooleys shoulder to support his weight on the car and the other to guide himself to press into his ass. He knew the sensation and took a long moment to revel in it as he pressed forward, moving his hand to Dooleys hip one he was sure he was in. Dooley was trying to be silent, but made a noise as if relieved, spreading his feet a little further apart. Ryan kept moving slowly until eventually he pressed in as deep as he could, he felt a shudder move through Dooley’s back._

_“Let me make myself clear.” Ryan breathed, leaning in to speak into the thiefs ear. “Your ass is mine. For now, you’re safe. But one wrong move, one mistake, and there is nowhere you can go to escape me.” His voice twisted slightly into a snarl. “I will fucking end you.”_

_Dooley made a sound like he released a nervous breath of air and Ryan leaned back a little, corrected his posture, and pulled away._ _He fucked into Dooley’s ass they way he always wished he could fuck. Hard, forgetting about controlling himself. Not caring if he hurt the kid._

_He wasn’t, of course._ Ryan would never intentionally do so without permission. _Because he was loving it. Dooley curled his elbows to improve his grip on the car roof, angled his ass to make it easier for Ryan, who was taller, to maintain his pace._

Ryan matched the pace with his hand as much as he could, the mind stuttering over details of fucking the younger man as his abdomen tensed, pleasure curling around him as he moved.

_Dooley made a noise into the car, a wrecked sound of submission and pleasure. His ass clenched down, his body stiffening as Ryan pressed in deeply and spilled inside him._ Ryans hand slowed, massaging himself through his orgasm and the aftershocks.  _Jeremy sagged once Ryan pulled away, breathing hard into the interior of the car. Ryan fixed himself quickly and smirked at the ruined man in front of him._

_“Better get rid of the evidence.” He advised before leaving the thief half naked in the alleyway to deal with the car he’d stolen._

Ryan took a few moments to breathe in the silence of his mind. The monotonous sound of the water in the shower. It was not a good idea to fuck Dooley. He knew that. He doubted the kid liked it as rough as Ryan hoped. He didn’t even seem like that much of a bottom. But now the idea was in his head.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Let me know if there's any issues as most of this was written in the middle of the night...
> 
> I love all of you!


	15. Ch 14 - Morning Bliss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy tried to get through a phone call. 
> 
> It becomes problematic.

The second time the phone rang was the next morning, Jeremy woke to the ring tone, even more obnoxious by the light of the morning, and had to free himself of Adam’s strangling arms to get to it. Adam growled at him, following Jeremy as he moved across the bed and sat himself against the headboard. The man curling into him as if tracking the warmth.

“Yeah?” Jeremy croaked into the phone. Christ his mouth was dry. And his head hurt. How many whiskies did he have last night? He ran his other hand into Adam’s hair.

“Morning.” Came the amused voice from the other end of the line. Ramsay sounded like he knew exactly what Jeremy had done. “How are you feeling?”

“What?” Jeremy was momentarily confused.

“Vagabond told me you made yourself useful last night, but also managed to get yourself almost killed.” Ramsay sighed down the line.

“He almost… did.” Jeremy glanced down at Adam as the man looked up at him, curious and disturbed from his sleep. “But I’m fine. Sore.”

“To be expected.” Ramsay laughed. “He also said you needed some hardware.”

“I can’t afford any.” Jeremy groaned. “I-” he paused as Adam sat and shifted, pushing his knee down so he could straddle Jeremy’s lap. “And, in fairness he did say we wouldn’t need anything like that.”

“Are you not alone?” Ramsay frowned. “And I can provide something next time a job seems like it needs it.” Adam leaned down and kissed Jeremy’s lips chastely. Jeremy smiled at him and waved him away. “You know how to use one?”

“It’s been a while but I remember the basics.” Jeremy assured the crime boss.

“Vagabond also tells me you stole one of his mercs.” Ramsay added, sounding pleased. “Nice touch.”

“He didn’t need it.” Jeremy reasoned as Adam shuffled forward and quietly wrapped his hand around their cocks, pressing them together. He pointed the phone speaker away from himself as he let out a deep sigh and shook his head at the man. Adam replied with a cheeky smile. Ramsay laughed at his response.

“Good work.” Ramsay told him. Adam curled down into the ear not against the phone as Ramsay said something else, and whispered;

“I noticed something last night.” The man breathed hot against his neck. “Tell me if it’s too hard.” Jeremy was confused for a split second, wondering what Ramsay was saying in one ear while Adam leaned into the other side of his neck and bit down firmly into his trapeze muscle. He held his breath and his whole body tensed with a wave of pleasure rolling through him.

“Dooley?” Ramsay growled.

“Sorry, boss, missed that.” Jeremy said, breathless. “Say again?”

“I _said_ that I have another errand for you later this week.” The man growled, sounding a little frustrated. Adam moved slightly and bit down again, hard, suckling at the muscle trapped between his teeth while he rocked his hips in time with his hand to jack them both off.

“O-okay.” Jeremy agreed blindly. “What time? I’m at the garage until…” He paused as he felt the burning start under Adams mouth. “Until about five.”

“Dooley.” Ramsay snapped. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Nothing, boss, what time?”

“Whenever you’re finished work-” Silence fell over the line as Adam moved, pulling on Jeremy’s hair to tilt his head to the side and bit down firmly on his upper neck, hard enough to leave teeth marks and Jeremy pointed the phone away from himself to let out a breathy moan.

“Are you getting a blow job right now?” Ramsay snapped.

“Wha-” Jeremy couldn’t even finish the lie as Adam bit down on his shoulder and held on for a long few seconds. More, maybe.

“Dooley, get whoever is in your lap out of it, right now.” Ramsay ordered. Jeremy considered it but shook his head at the phone.

“Text me the details and I’ll get it done.” He assured the man. “I gotta go.”

“ _Don’t you fucking hang_ -”

Jeremy hit the end button and tossed the phone away and turned his attention to Adam, still biting down on his shoulder.

“You’re going to get me killed.” He breathed, moving to help the other man jack them off but was stopped gently with a wave of a hand. Jeremy took to massaging the taller man’s thighs as he released his shoulder, reddend marks already raised angrily on his skin.

“Too early for work talk.” Adam told him, kissing him. Jeremy moaned in agreement, jolting in surprise when Adams teeth sunk into his lip. He made a surprised noise.

“Not too hard?” Adam checked, leaning back, firming his grip around their cocks.

“N…no.” Jeremy shook his head. “I thought you said you could be mean?”

Adam clucked his tongue at him, as if disappointed in his challenge, and leaned into Jeremy’s neck again.

“I’ll show you mean.” He warned and bit, hard and fast down on Jeremy’s neck, almost overlapping with the hickey he’d sucked in. Jeremy growled through his teeth in a mix of pain and pleasure, arcing his back to press hard against the man in his lap. Adam held on firmly, his teeth surely marking him, and Jeremy felt the soft huffs of air that was his laughter. He didn’t care, between the bites and the hand job and the motion of the mans cock against his own he could feel heat pooling at the base of his spine, rolling down his belly.

“Adam…” Jeremy breathed.

“More?” Adam smirked, kissing him on the lips again, Jeremy was too blissed out to formulate a smart reply.

“Yeah.” Jeremy agreed, speaking directly into his mouth. Adam leaned around him, firming and pacing his strokes on their cocks, moving in his lap still as he pulled Jeremy’s head the other way and latched onto his shoulder. Jeremy growled in agreement of the action, trying to move his hips as well, but trapped by Adam’s weight.

Distantly he heard his work phone buzz with a text. Jeremy tried, again, to help, but a growl from Adam stayed his hands as the man moved to bite just under his ear. He bit down, hard, stroking them firmly between the two of them and it struck Jeremy that it would be visible if his teeth left a mark there.

“…Close.” Jeremy moaned, trying to kiss whatever skin was in reach of his mouth, his head being held still by the firm grip in his hair. He wriggled in half-hearted protest.

“Wait for me.” Adam chuckled into his neck. Jeremy groaned with the sudden effort of containing himself, feeling heat burning along his skin, his desire to touch and feel Adam almost breaking the unspoken rule of no touching.

“Fuck, Jeremy.” Adam groaned, burying his face into the smaller mans shoulder and his hands stuttering along their cocks, squeezing firmly on their pressed-together shafts.

Jeremy realised he was holding his breath, but felt physically incapable of pulling air into his lungs, his whole body tensing up of its own volition. Jeremy pulled against the hand in his hair, his hands curling around Adams back and digging in his fingertips as he blanked for a moment, the sensation of white as he came into Adams hand. He swore as he did so, arcing into Adam as Adam curled into him.

By the time Jeremy managed to register thought again, opening his eyes, feeling out of breath, Adam was comfortably curled into his chest, apparently content to sit in his lap.

“My boss is going to kill me.” Jeremy groaned.

“Worth it.” Adam muttered into his shoulder. “I might have given you some bruises. Sorry.”

“S’cool.” Jeremy shrugged. “Something to brag about.”

“I have to get up soon.” Adam complained.

“Yeah, because we’re filthy.” Jeremy agreed.

“ _Yeah_ we are.” He could feel Adam grinning into his neck. “But I meant I have a meeting at eleven.”

“Boo.” Jeremy groaned.

“Didn’t you say you had work today?”

Jeremy hummed in agreement, not finding the energy to check the time despite the fact he knew he would be late again.

“I’m going to have a shower.” Adam sighed. “Don’t leave without giving me your number.” He ordered. Jeremy hummed again as Adam extracted himself from his lap, his skin complaining at the departure of heat and contact.  He watched Adam collect some clothes from the floor and cross to the bathroom. He took a second to appreciate his cute ass before looking at his phone. He flipped it and opened the message.

**V: Boss wants me to castrate you.**

**V: Said I’d think about it.**

**V: Call me when you’re alone.**

Jeremy sighed at the texts. Proper grammar and everything. Was nothing about the Vagabond _not_ terrifying?

**Bitch: K**

Jeremy made a face as the name on his own contact info popped up, making a mental note to change it. He made the reply as short as possible, really hoping that it would annoy Vagabond. Not sure why he was hoping to piss of a hit-man that already didn’t like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some more smut that has important, very real consequences to the 'story' and therefore is totally justified. 
> 
> Yay!


	16. Ch. 15 Odd Jobs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan has to deal with his own crew for a change.

Ryan had to stop and smile at the door of Geoffs office at the man was growling into a phone. He was easily worked up.

“ _Don’t you fucking hang up, you poor excuse for-”_ Geoff stared at the phone. “You little shit, really want see how this goes for you?”

“Morning boss.” Ryan smiled, sitting at the desk chair.

“Fuck, Ryan, the little shit hung up on me.” Geoff spat, tossing his phone at his desk. Ryan nodded slightly.

“Which little shit?” He asked.

“You’re in a good mood.” Geoff accused.

“And you’re pissy.” Ryan countered.

“Your little thief hung up on me!” Geoff almost shouted. “He was getting a blow job in the middle of a phone call.”

“He’s not _my_ thief, Geoff.” Ryan smirked. “I wanted to kill him, remember?”

“Fuck off.” Geoff growled.

“And if you’re surprised he got laid after almost getting himself killed last night, then I don’t know what to tell you.” Ryan shrugged. “What did you expect?”

“A little fucking decorum!” Geoff snarled. “Fucking kids these days.”

Ryan snorted in amusement.

“Geoff, if you called me in the middle of a blow job I’d hang up on you too.” Ryan pointed out.

“Are you defending him?” His boss frowned.

“Just saying.” He shrugged. “Want me to find him and express your displeasure?”

“I’d like you to castrate him.” Geoff growled, putting a hand to his face to contain himself. Ryan chuckled.

“That can arranged.”

“No, don’t.” The crime boss sighed. “You’re right. Just, I need him to do the drop tonight.”

“What, why?” Ryan frowned. “Where’s Lindsay?”

“Jack and the B-team are doing some secret job for the next couple of days.” Geoff sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Ray has a meeting or something,” Geoff sighed heavily, “and Gavin and Michael are _apparently_ too important.”

Ryan considered the other options.

“And unless you want to-”

“No.” Ryan said warningly.

“I didn’t think so.” Geoff nodded. “Anyone else on the payroll is purely admin.”

Ryan muttered a few choice words under his breath about admin.

“So, Dooley is my other option. Open to suggestions.”

“We hire in a new B-team member?” Ryan tried.

“Why? Keeping Dooley happy costs me a third of the amount of a full time member.” Geoff shrugged. “And he behaved yesterday.”

“Apart from the back talk.” Ryan pointed out. Geoff made a dismissive motion with his hand.

“I didn’t blackmail him into working for us because I thought he’d be well behaved.” Geoff pointed out. “I need someone with his skillset. And he’s a Los Santos native. They know how to do secrets.”

Ryan frowned in disagreement but stayed silent for a moment while Geoff sighed and clicked through a few emails.

“He’s a thief by nature.” Ryan pointed out quietly. “Information is priceless to guys like him. You trust him to know how one of our drops work?”

Geoff looked up at him and sighed.

“Yeah, I trust him.” Geoff huffed. “Kids terrified of you.” He pointed out. “And considering his background and his workplace I think it’ll be fine. I need another pair of hands, his’ll do.”

Ryan nodded after a moment of silent consideration, disliking Geoffs reasoning. Ryan had been in Los Santos since he was nineteen, yet somehow he wasn’t a native. The odd comradery and trust between people born and raised in this city annoyed the shit out of him. But Geoff had a point. Dooley was in a corner and they needed warm bodies. He sighed.

“So, no castrating?” Ryan asked

“No.” Geoff shook his head. “Just meet him somewhere and tell him where to do the drop. I don’t really want to add him to safe list here yet.”

Ryan stood, nodding, pulling out his phone to text the kid.

“Sure.” He nodded. “Anything else?”

Geoff shook his head, paused and then looked at him.

“Did you check with Caleb about the girlfriend?”

“Hmmm?” Ryan frowned. “Oh, yes. He said Jeremy should be correct with the dose. He wasn’t on when she came through the ER, but says he’ll check on his shift this afternoon.”

“Huh.” Geoff nodded. “How did he know?” He wondered aloud.

“Know what?”

“About the dose and effect of midaz, or whatever it was?”

Ryan considered it.

“Not sure. Recovered user maybe?”

“There was nothing in his juvie records.”

“Maybe other experience.” Ryan suggested. “I can ask him.”

His boss pursed his lips and considered it. Then shook his head.

“No, don’t want to spook him if it’s something he plays close to the chest.” He sighed. “I’m still waiting to hear about the museum.”

“Ah.” Ryan nodded, understanding. “Your long awaited Museum Job.” He sighed and resisted rolling his eyes. “You don’t seriously think that he’s that good, do you?”

Geoff gave him a warning look at his tone, his dark eyes narrowing at him from across the desk.

“I think he’s invested in his family enough to ask _how high_ when we say _jump_.” Geoff explained firmly, the tone indicating that disagreement wasn’t about to be an option. “And that should be plenty of motivation.”

Ryan considered spurring the argument on, but had already verbally sparred with Jack this morning about the car and didn’t really feel ready for another match.

“If you say so.” He nodded instead, knowing his faux agreeing tone would still annoy the shit out of his current boss.

“Just…” Geoff massaged the bridge of his nose. “Call him and organise a time to meet.”

Ryan stood and sighed his agreement and was already texting before he was out of the office. The sounds of a game was coming from the lounge and by the swearing along with it; it was Michael and someone playing Halo.

His suspicion was confirmed when he found Ray and Michael playing split screen and Michael yelling at someone who no doubt couldn’t hear him. Ray was grinning slightly, amused at Michaels rage. Ryan stood behind them for a moment, assessing the game they were playing and figured out why Michael was upset about three seconds later. Their team was playing for kills, not for the objective. He looked at Ray, who half glanced at him and then cleared his throat.

“Michael, you gotta get the oddball.” He said helpfully. Ray sniggered.

“Really, Ryan?!” Michael snarled, not even looking around. “DO I? DO I _have to get the fucking ball, Ryan_?” He shook his head. “What _the fuck_ do you _fucking_ think? Because _I think_ I’m playing with a team of stupid cunting fuck-wits who really feel like _upping their fucking K/D_ on my fucking _objective game!_ ”

Ray looked around at Ryan as he died with a look of resigned annoyance while Michael continued to rage.

“Why you do this, man?” He asked. Ryan shrugged in reply and glanced at his phone and found Dooley had replied.

 

**Bitch: K**

 

Ryan frowned at the phone, instantly annoyed with the response of a single letter.

“You busy later, Rye?” Ray asked over the sound of shooting and yelling.

“Got an errand, why?” He said half thoughtfully.

“I need a ride to a meeting across town around six.”

“Can do, but gotta see someone on the way.” He replied, trying to decide if he should text Dooley about his rudeness or just leave it for now.

“Is it someone I should care about?” Ray wondered.

“No.” Ryan assured him.

“’K.” Ray shrugged.

Ryan paused and looked at the back of Ray’s head, silhouetted against the TV. Fucking kids. He shoved the phone into his pocket and headed for the elevator to clean some weaponry to calm down.

 

He had a Beretta in pieces by the time Dooley decided to call him back. He put it on speaker so he could continue cleaning the barrel.

“Nice of you to call in.” He answered.

“I see you locked my nickname to Bitch.” Was Dooleys unamused reply. “Mature.”

Ryan snickered internally, assuming Gavin had followed his instructions a little _too_ to the letter.

“Be glad you still have your balls, and don’t push it.” Ryan warned aloud. “Boss was very annoyed with you.”

There was a silence over the phone that suggested Jeremy wanted to make a smart ass comment about how little fucks he gave, but resisted.

“What time do you finish work tonight?”

“Why?” Dooley sighed, the sound of a door shutting and the background noise lessening, as if he’d stepped inside.

“Because I fucking asked you.” Ryan growled.

Jeremy muttered something under his breath, too quiet for the phones mic to pick up. “Five. Five thirty. Depends on the jobs I ge-”

“Meet me at five forty five at the parking lot on Sunrise lane. It’s about three blocks from you.”

There was a hesitation.

“I know it.” He said. “Why?”

Ryan glared at the phone, pausing his cleaning process.

“Right.” Jeremy said quietly. “Where in the lot?”

“Second floor, north west corner.” Ryan told him sternly. “You’ll know the car.”

Another moment of silence while Ryan assumed Jeremy sighed in resignation.

“Fine.” He replied finally. “See you at Five forty five.”

Ryan was about to add something smug but the call ended before he could do so. Little shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Been a while peeps. Sorry to keep you waiting!
> 
> I had a brainwave a little while ago that sort of altered the direction of this fic, so have made very minor changes to a few chapters to help with continuity and things. Small things, not super important to the plot, but just smoothing out some edges.
> 
> Loves


	17. Ch. 16 Simple Instructions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is relatively sure that getting cock-blocked by work is technically a federal offence.

**Bar Hottie, Adam: Want to hang out tonight? I finish at like 8.**

Jeremy half typed in a reply and then deleted it, shaking his head at the open bonnet in front of him. He continued to stare at the message as if that would provide him answers.  
Well. The answer was yes. He did want to. But he didn’t know what he needed to do for Ramsay and Vagabond tonight. He wasn’t sure if that would lend itself to flexibility.  
He liked Adam. Not that he wanted a relationship right now, neither had Adam, but he could use someone to spend time with. Someone to be horny with. He touched his neck thoughtfully, running a fingertip over the marks.

“Jeremy!” A snarl came from behind him, jolting him out of his trance. He jumped, swearing and grabbed the car for support as his heart tried to explode out of his chest.  
He looked around at Alfredo, one of Griffons new additions. He was meant to be improving his mechanic skills alongside Jeremy but turned out was already pretty decent.

“Christ, man, what the fuck?” he breathed.

“You’ve been staring at your phone and ignoring me for the last ten minutes.” Alfredo laughed. “I’ve had like a whole conversation with you.”

“Sorry.” Jeremy sighed and stretched himself away from the car, dropping the bonnet as he did so. “Anything important?”

“Only me asking you to help me finish this job.” He replied, indicating the Chevy up on the ramps behind him. “Seeing as you’re done.”

Jeremy glanced at the time.

“Sorry man, I have to leave for my other job in five or so.” He explained. “Just leave it for the morning. They’re not picking it up for a few days.”

“You have a second job?” Alfredo asked, sounding surprised. “Aren’t you here full time?”

“Yes.” Jeremy nodded.

“When do you have time?” Alfredo wondered.

“Nights.” Jeremy admitted. “Usually.”

“Where is it?” The younger mechanic asked. Jeremy raised his eyebrow at him, forcefully reminded once again that Alfredo definitely didn’t grow up in Los Santos.

“It’s contract work.” Jeremy told him pointedly. Alfredo looked momentarily confused but Jeremy didn’t really want to explain so headed off the floor.

“Griffon.” He called. He heard her muffled reply from under a car somewhere. “I gotta head.”

“Fine, but be back tomorrow.” She replied, almost a warning, not looking up from her desk where she was working on a photo. 

“Let’s hope.” Jeremy muttered to himself, grabbing his bag and heading for the door. He stared at the phone while he walked into the harsh afternoon sun, still wondering what to say.

 

**Me: I gotta work late :(**

 

Jeremy settled for the lame reply sometime later, honest but annoying. He felt even more annoyed by the fact that it was Vagabond inconveniencing him. He’d left him very fucking angry and horny after the job he’d managed to fuck five ways to Sunday. Now he was cock blocking him. His phone buzzed in his hand.

 

**Adam: Boo! How ur neck looking?**

**Me: Like I got attacked by a pissed off cat.**

**Adam: Lol. Text me when ur not working?**

**Me: Sure.**

 

Jeremy half smiled as he crossed the road towards the parking structure. Tentatively hoping he could salvage his night.

He instantly spotted the car parked on the edge of the lot on the second floor. There were no cameras that worked in this building anymore, so he sighed and headed towards the Mercedes that he’d stolen from the now dead billionaire.  
Thank fuck they’d changed the plates.

Jeremy threaded through the few other cars in the lot and felt his mood sour as he approached the vehicle. The windows were blacked out, which he guessed Vagabond liked, but he heard the doors unlock as he approached. He opened the passenger door and got in the car and closed the door behind him, looking at Vagabond with what he hoped was exasperation.

“What?” The man asked, shrugging innocently. He wasn’t wearing his jacket, just a tee, his mask and his still too firm jeans, and the tee looked almost too small. It hugged his shoulders and across his pecs and ribs and Jeremy almost started cursing at him.

“The… car.” He replied after slightly too long. “Really? It’s all over the news.”

“Changed the plates.” Vagabond pointed out. “You’re the one wearing orange.”

Jeremy glanced at his work shirt.

“This is my uniform.” He pointed out.

“For your other job.” Vagabond agreed. There was a moment of silence while it felt like the Vagabond was waiting for something. There was a noise in the back seat. The sound of a game or something dinging success. He turned to see someone in a purple hoodie playing a pink DS. He turned back to the driver just as quickly. He didn’t want to know.

“What am I doing?” He asked.

“What happened?” Vagabond asked, almost at the same time. Jeremy frowned in confusion. “Your neck.” The man added, reaching out a hand. Jeremy flinched away out of instinct, watching Vagabond carefully as the man chuckled, leaned over and grabbed his collar to pull it away to see more of his shoulder. More of the marks littering his skin.

“Get mauled by a bear?” He queried pointedly. Jeremy gave him a look.

“Fuck off.” He said, slapping the older mans hand away from him. There was a split second of silence, the Vagabond visibly stiffening and Jeremy instantly regretting his actions.

He twisted towards him, tried to get a defence up. He half succeeded, catching some of the weight of the backhand that the man put into his cheek. It’s still hurt like hell, but at least his head wasn’t spinning. At least he couldn’t taste any blood. He felt more that saw Vagabond moving from his seat, coming towards him. Jeremy really didn’t have any escape options and there wasn’t a whole lot he could do at this point.

“ _Wait_.” He managed before a hand in his hair slammed his face into the dashboard of the car.

Fuck. Now he could taste blood.

 

“Ah… fuck.” The kid whined, working his jaw slightly against the plastic. Ryan was leaning awkwardly across the console to keep Dooley’s face pinned against the dash, the kids hands struggling for a moment before spreading a little, as if indicating his surrender.

Ray sat up in the back seat, looking at the situation and giving Ryan a look of amused questioning.

“I’m just here to get the job.” The kid breathed. Ryan ignored the comment, pulling his collar out of the way with his free hand to look at the bite marks on his neck. Too many and too deep to have been caused without Dooley’s consent. Hickeys littered in between the teeth patterns. Some of the marks were light and others were welted into his skin.  
Whoever he’d been with on the phone with Geoff had bitten him. Hard. Repeatedly. And the kid hadn’t stopped them.

He was smiling behind the mask.

“Too small.” Ray commented from behind the passenger seat head rest.

“Oh good.” Jeremy muttered quietly, flushing red, twisting slowly in Ryan’s grip. “Let’s all discuss it.”

“Bears are usually big guys.” Ray pointed out. “Maybe a woman?”

“I doubt it.” Ryan grinned. “With the way he’s been staring at my ass every chance he gets.”

Dooley closed his eyes, very quietly swearing at himself, obviously fighting to stay quiet, avoiding drawing more attention to himself.

“So a smaller guy.” Ray shrugged.

“No.” Ryan shook his head. “Someone not used to biting. Otherwise they’d have used their whole jaw, not just the front teeth.” He indicated the marks with his index finger.

The young thief’s face confirmed his suspicions, with the way he turned redder, rolling his eyes and letting out a huff of air. Ryan selected one of the deep marks, welting into a deep red, almost purple colour and dug his thumb into it as he moved back, freeing Dooleys head and sitting back into the drivers seat.  
Dooley leaned away from the hand, wincing at the pain and bracing on the door.

“Are you always this unprofessional?” The kid asked, not meeting his eyes, his hand resting over his neck above his collar. Hiding the marks. “First the last minute hit job, now assault instead of info.”

Ray laughed in the back seat. Dooley half glanced like he was stopping himself from looking.

“I’m sorry.” Ryan replied in a faux sweet voice. “Is your treatment not up to your normal employee standards?”

Dooley frowned at him, guarding his reply, as if knowing full well there was nothing he could safely say. Ryan smiled behind the mask.

“You can always reapply for the _under the interstate_ position.” He joked, trying to keep his tone serious. Ray snorted.

“What’s the job?” Dooley pressed. Ryan sighed and pulled a key from his pocket and tossed it to the kid.

“Head to South Side bus station. Locker number is on the key.” Dooley flipped the key to inspect the tag. “Take the bag out, pay for the locker and return the key. Then take the bag to Pines Relief just off the beach walk and drop it in the donate bin inside the store, get a receipt. It closes at eight.”

Dooley looked at him, almost suspiciously.

“A drop.” He said flatly. “You’re getting me to do a drop.” It wasn’t a question.

“Problem?” Ryan asked.

Dooley sighed.

“No. Just…” He glanced out the windshield and then back at him, meeting his gaze. “Is this drop under surveillance?”

“Not as far as we know.” Ryan shrugged. “After that you take the receipt to-” he paused to angle his head in what he hoped was a warning way to quiet Dooleys question before he asked it, “to 137 Servans Plaza, 13th floor, Fuller housing. They’ll have someone on the desk. Give them the receipt and you’re done.”

Dooley watched him for a moment, to ensure his instructions were done before he spoke.

“A double drop.”

“Yep.” Ryan confirmed.

“The second of which is to Funhaus?” Dooley pressed.

“I don’t know why you’d think that.” Ryan replied evenly. Dooley sighed, running a hand through his hair, as if resisting actually answering him. The he looked back up at him.

“So why use me?”

“Ask Ramsay.” Ryan suggested. Dooley looked at him suspiciously.

“I don’t have a car.” He said after a moment.

“So take a bus.”

“This isn’t going to be a regular thing, right?” Dooley asked tentatively.

Ryan tilted his head at the kid for a moment, catching a note in his voice he couldn’t quite place.

“How the fuck would I know?” Ryan replied. “Why?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dooley assured him, opening the door before Ryan could lock him in. “Is that it?”

“Text me once it’s done.” Ryan nodded. “Something inconspicuous.”

“Right.” Dooley agreed and stepped out of the car without waiting for anything more, shoving the door closed behind him and walking away without another comment. Ryan watched him go for a moment in silence, half tempted to get out of the car and remind him to wait until he was dismissed, but he really couldn't be fucked today. Then he pulled his mask off and shook his hair free.

“So…” Ray said from behind him. “How long till you fuck him?”

Ryan gave him a look. Ray smirked and leaned back, shifting his attention back to his DS.

“I’m just saying.” He laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh nooo, Ryan has discovered Jeremy's love of being a chew toy! Whatever does this mean? What will happen, tune in next time, same bat time, same bat channel.
> 
> (Shark Repellent sold separately)


	18. Ch.17 The Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy meets some other Los Santos criminals. 
> 
> Networking is important.

Jeremy really wished he’d grabbed a change of clothes by the time he’d dropped his ‘donation’ into the Pines ‘charity’ store. He’d ridden half way around the city on a bus, annoyed at himself for not having a vehicle, in his bright orange shirt, mostly oil stained jeans and work boots. He looked out of place making a donation at Pines, as if he’d gone out of his way, but Vagabond could give him clearer instructions if he wanted a lap dog, so he forced himself not to give a fuck.

Then he looked _very_ out of place walking into 137 Servans Plaza. It was an office building. People in suits were around, though it was quiet. The workday was well over, almost eight pm by the time he made it to the elevator. One of the suits that steps out of his gave him a curious and almost disgusted look as he passed.

Jeremy resisted the urge to flip him off.

He stepped into an elevator, empty other than him and hit the button. The music was still going. It was exactly what one would imaging elevator music sounding like. Rhythmic and harmless enough to go almost unnoticed, but loud enough to cover the silence of the empty box. It dinged at him and announced the floor when he arrived and stepped out into a hallway. He frowned at the sign, one pointing left to a lawyer office and the other pointing right towards Fuller Housing Group Int. Ltd.

Jeremy hadn’t taken long to figure out who he was making a drop to. This area? Some connection to the Fakes? Business name starting with FH? It wasn’t a leap. Though he had heard that Funhaus and the Fakes, while on the same side, weren’t on great terms with each other. He hoped the relationship wasn't bad enough to get him in trouble just for showing up.

The Fuller Housing door slid open as he approached and that, if anything, indicated it was a shady business. Why the fuck would people be here otherwise? There was a small reception desk and a guy about his age sitting in it. He was small behind the twin screens set up in front of him and he was wearing a hoodie over what looked like a suit.  
He glanced up as Jeremy entered.

“Evening.” He said, sort of blandly.

“Hey.” Jeremy said. “I just need to drop in a receipt.” He explained, holding the envelope up to indicate all he had was a piece of paper. The guy nodded and pressed a button on his desk. The door behind him opened.

“First office on the left.” He instructed and nodded his head in that direction. Jeremy muttered a thanks and followed his direction. He knocked lightly on the door frame of the first office on his left, getting the attention of the man sitting on the other side of it, engrossed in a novel.

“Dropping in a receipt?” Jeremy said again. The guy frowned at him slightly, putting his book down.

“You’re not one of the usuals.” He pointed out.

“I’m filling in.” Jeremy explained. “I give this to you?”

“Yeah.” The guy said, standing slowly, still frowning at him. “I know you from somewhere?”

Jeremy shrugged. Entirely possible, he figured. He didn’t recognise the man. He was taller than Jeremy, though that wasn’t a challenge, and broad. He also sported a beard.

“Dunno.” Jeremy shrugged. “Jeremy.” He introduced himself, holding out his hand for a handshake.

“Bruce.” The man nodded, accepting the greeting with a firm shake. Then something clicked and his eyes lit up with recognition. He didn’t look pleased about it.

“I do know you!” He said accusingly. “Stay here.” He ordered and rushed out of the room. He shut the door as he left.

Jeremy blinked in surprise, suddenly left alone in the office, receipt still in his hand. Jeremy really hoped he’d never robbed the guy, or he was about to be in even more shit he didn’t need. Bruce rushed back into the office, dragging someone behind him.

“Him, right?”

Jeremy looked at the man being dragged in by his arm and took a surprised step backwards. A lot of things falling into place.

“Adam?” He frowned.

“Jeremy?” Adam replied, sounding equally confused. “You’re a Fake?”

Jeremy hesitated, looking from Adam to Bruce. Adam was perplexed, Bruce was frowning at him still, suspicion on his face.

“I’m… no.” He said quickly. “I just sort of…” He had no idea how to explain this situation. “I sometimes help them out. It’s not a voluntary position.” He added, hoping that clarified things. Adam still looked confused.

“Did you know he was Funhaus when you slept with him?” Bruce asked firmly.

“What? No.” Jeremy shook his head.

“But you did get his number.” Bruce went on. “And his address.”

Adam looked at his friend, appearing concerned and back at Jeremy in silence

“Uh… yeah?” Jeremy nodded, feeling the urge to back up a little.

“Did you tell the rest of your crew?” Bruce pressed.

“They’re not _my_ crew.” Jeremy insisted. “I fucked up and now they kind of… I dunno, own me kinda?”

“Own you?” Adam frowned.

“Wait.” Bruce held up a hand, looking Jeremy up and down again, as if trying to place him. “Are you… Did you... Are you the guy that robbed Vagabond?”

Jeremy looked at him, startled. Partly at the surprise accusation and partly at how the  _fuck_ did anyone know?

“You what?” Adam demanded.

“And got away, obviously?” Bruce went on, going from pitbull to puppy in the space of three seconds, looking almost excited.

“Well…” Jeremy shrugged sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“You _what_?” Adam repeated.

“I didn’t know it was him.” Jeremy assured them. “Until he tried to kill me.”

“Ugh, he _glanced_ at me once and I swear I had a heart attack.” Bruce admitted, pressing a hand to his chest as if remembering the pain.

“You _robbed the Vagabond_?” Adam moved forward, gripping around Jeremy’s tricep and pulling him a little closer to look down at his face directly.

“Yeah.” Jeremy sighed. “Which is why the Fakes sort of own me now. Wait.” Jeremy frowned. “How did you know about that?”

“Rumours.” Bruce smiled at him. “Adam, you didn’t tell me you bagged the best thief in town.”

“We didn’t talk about work.” Adam sighed, letting go of Jeremy’s arm and moving back a little. “Bruce can you give us a minute?”

Bruce glanced at him, looking concerned, but nodded.

“Sure.” He said. “Oh, receipt.” He held out a hand. Jeremy passed him the receipt and the man backed out of the office and shut the door.

There was a long moment of silence.

“You said you had a lot of things happening.” Adam started. “I sort of get it now.”

“Life’s… busy.” Jeremy agreed. “And dangerous.”

“That seems like the understatement of the year.” Adam sighed. “This is your working late? I thought you were a mechanic.”

“That’s the day job.” Jeremy nodded. “The thief work was to help with bills…”

“Right.” Adam sighed, moving around to lean against the desk. “Our relationship with the Fakes is-”

Jeremy held up his hands.

“No offence Adam, but I don’t want to know.” He said. “I want to know as little about the Fakes and their operation as possible. About Funhaus as possible. I’m just a thief on thin ice and I don’t need any help breaking it.”

Adam nodded slowly.

“Your neck looks good.” He smiled. Jeremy’s hand went self-consciously to the marks on his neck. He recalled the Vagabond pressing a thumb into it and assessing the marks. He shook the thought away.

“It does.” Jeremy agreed after a moment. “I had a really good time. I just don’t…” He hesitated.

“You don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in contact?” Adam finished for him.

“You don’t need to deal with my situation on top of your own.” Jeremy nodded. “And I don’t need the stress.”

“It’s a shame.” Adam shrugged. “Though I might call if I ever need your expertise.”

“Right.” Jeremy said dryly. “Expertise. I won’t lose your number then. I like to stay in touch with my good clients.”

Adam laughed slightly.

“Will you be doing the drop from now on?”

“I hope not.” Jeremy sighed. “But I don’t really get a choice.”

Adam looked like he wanted to ask more questions, Jeremy hoped he wouldn’t. He didn’t feel like diving into his financial problems and how the Vagabond had managed to kick the shit out of him.

“Right.” Adam said instead. “I better let you go, the- wait.” Adam looked very suddenly horrified, as if something had just occurred to him.

“What?” Jeremy asked, already halfway to the door.

“The phone call.” Adam covered his face. “You said boss… was it… Please tell me that wasn’t Ramsay?”

Jeremy laughed.

“Yeah, it was.”

“Oh god.” Adam slumped a little. “I’m very dead.”

“How would he know?” Jeremy reasoned. “I’m not gonna tell him. He’s already mad enough that I hung up on him.”

“You _hung up on him_.” Adam breathed into his palms. “I knew you were too cute to be real.”

“Hey.” Jeremy said defensively.

“I’m never hooking up with anyone from a bar again.” Adam promised his knees. Jeremy sighed and waved a hand at him.  
“You done, Drama Queen?” He asked.

“In a minute.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not in love with this chapter, so it might be worked upon a little more, but I want to keep moving. 
> 
> AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
> 
> So, hope you guys are well...


	19. Ch. 18 Finances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy realises the significance of his 'deal' with the Fakes.

After the drop it was two weeks before he used the phone again.

The drop itself was fine, though Jeremy was disappointed he was sort of out of bounds for Adam until they figured things out. But it had been great.  
Vagabond hadn’t texted. Ramsay hadn’t called. And for two solid weeks Jeremy actually had the time to work. To go see his family.

And what a difference it made.

His brother had called in tears, sobbing into the phone and for a long, dreadful moment Jeremy had thought it was the worst news.   
But it wasn’t. Nathan had called to thank him. The treatment facility looking after Nicholas had sent him a copy of the payment plan that Jeremy assumed the Fakes had organised for him. And paid the first three months up front. As long as ‘Jeremy’ kept the payments up to date, his brother didn’t have to pay another sent.

It was the first instance of Jeremy realising the significance of the situation he’d managed to get himself into. Following the call he’d visited his mother as well to check in with the nursing home about the unpaid invoices that had been piling up. They had all been cleared, the invoice was now being sent to a financial advocate, which Jeremy assumed was a Fake front, which would keep payments coming.

Unless Jeremy misbehaved, he guessed.

Walking out of the nursing home had felt like a life changing moment, however. The ever present financial burden that had existed over his head for the last however many years was suddenly gone. Well, perhaps not gone entirely, replaced with the existing concern that Vagabond might decide to murder him if Jeremy fucked up. He felt fifty pounds lighter. He didn’t need to look at his bank account right now to figure out how to back pay invoices, or how he was going to afford rent _and_ food this week. Or what he would do if his nephew happened to get a cold while his immune system was busy being killed off by the chemo. Or if his brother got a flat tire.

When Nathan had called him in tears Jeremy had almost cried too. He would have were he at home and hadn’t been at work. When the nurse assured him his Mothers room was secure for a few more months he’d had to leave before his emotions overwhelmed him.

He’d no doubt fucked up weeks ago when he’d crossed the Fakes. But somehow he’d stayed alive and was getting his bills paid. And for someone who had been struggling week to week to pay bills for both himself and his family since he was old enough to figure out how, it was a difficult moment to come to terms with.

He fumbled with his ‘work’ phone as he crossed the carpark towards the bus stop. He hesitated for a moment before calling Ramsay.

“Ramsay.” The boss answered his phone short and sharp.

“Hey, boss.” Jeremy said, only pausing to realise what the fuck he was doing.

“Dooley?” Ramsay replied. “Why are you calling me? Missing Vagabond already?”

“No, it’s… You have a minute, right?” Jeremy sighed, resigning himself into doing this.

“I… Yeah, what’s going on?” The man responded, sounding like he expected Jeremy to report a murder.

“I’ve just visited my mother. And spoken to my brother.” He breathed. “And they explained the payment situation.”

“What’s the problem with it?”

“No, nothing, it’s…” Jeremy sighed. “I don’t know if you get how much this means to my family, but.” Jeremy had to pause to rub his forehead. “My nephew is eight. Going through chemo for the third time. My mom was going to be kicked out of the facility in like three weeks… I just…”

“Dooley, are you calling me to say thank you?” Ramsay asked, surprised.

Jeremy paused, wondering if that had been his plan.

“I guess so.” He sighed. “Just…” Jeremy took a moment to pre-prepare his question. “Why didn’t you… Threaten them? Instead of helping them out?” There was a pause of silence, Jeremy instantly felt bad about the question. “Sorry. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never…” He frowned, wondering how wise this was, essentially pouring his heart out to a man who had only ever threatened him. “I’ve never not had bills.”

Ramsay laughed on the other end of the line.

“Well, keep behaving and you might get used to it.” Ramsay assured him. “I’d rather have you on my side, Dooley, and while you fucked up taking the Vagabond job the rest of your work has been good as dicks.” Jeremy frowned to himself, wondering if he was talking about this thieving skills or his work at Griffons garage. He wasn’t sure what ‘as dicks’ equated to.

“Hey, got a question for you.” Geoff interrupted his thoughts.

“Yeah?” Jeremy said, realising he’d stopped in the middle of the carpark. He kept moving.

“Couple of weeks ago, on the job with Vagabond, you used…” The sound of paper shuffling as Ramsay paused. “Midazolam on the girlfriend, right?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded to himself, recalling finding the ampoules in the drawer and managing to remember the dosage for a small adult.

“How did you know?” He pressed.

“About midazolam?” Jeremy frowned. “Nick, my nephew, had seizures when he was little. I used to ask the nurses questions when I got uncomfortable waiting with my brother.”

“Right.” Ramsay sounded like that wasn’t the answer he’d expected.

“It’s a sedative, they use it when a seizure lasts to long, or when they need to sedate a patient.” Jeremy went on. “One of the nurses used to joke that she had five minutes to give midaz if she ever fucked up.”

“Noted.” Ramsay said with interest, sounding as if he was writing as he spoke. “I never saw any drug charges in your juvie record, I was curious.”

“Glad I could clear that up.” Jeremy sighed.

“Also, how do you feel about breaking into heavily guarded buildings?”

Jeremy frowned in the direction of the phone.

“How heavily guarded?”

“Not sure yet.” Ramsay admitted.

“Well, I’d like more than a few hours’ notice, if possible.” Jeremy replied carefully. “But in theory no place is 100 percent secure.”

“Good to hear.” Ramsay said happily. “Was there anything else?”

“Hmm?” Jeremy said, only just recalling he’d been the one to initiate contact. “Oh, no, that’s all. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Dooley.” Ramsay warned before hanging up.

Jeremy knew that sounded ominous, especially along with the questions about high security places, but right now he felt like he really didn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I'm a pretty lucky human. I've never had to stress about money. My family is healthy and I live in a country where health care is affordable and accessible. 
> 
> So, if you feel like I haven' represented the feeling of financial stress here let me know, always up for criticism. 
> 
> But my Jeremy has been working a long time to support his family and get by. That sort of stress builds up in a person and when it is suddenly taken away I can only imagine it's a weight lifting when it finally hits. I hope I did that sensation justice.


	20. Ch. 19 Easy work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan finally gets out of the house for a quick and easy job with an old friend. 
> 
> Also there is a puppy.

Sometimes jobs were challenging. Ryan faced guards or walls or remote locations and paranoid victims. These were the jobs he planned for, worked for, loved to accomplish because it was so fucking satisfying at the end of the day to succeed a difficult mission.

But there was something to be said for the quick and easy jobs, too. Quick in, easy out and usually a target that had no idea that he was coming.

He needed it, too, because ever since the Ezra job a week or two back he’d had no real work to do.

Surprisingly hit work had a seasonality to it. Winter was busy, more time indoors spent around people you didn’t like. Holiday season, lots of people moving through the country, easy to go unnoticed, easy to get people in motion.

Even if it was the high season though, Geoff had kept him off the streets. Had kept them all on low profile following the backlash around Cooperson being found in a pool of his own blood. Anyone who’d seen Ryan or Jeremy were dead before they’d left the compound, but it was generally accepted that the Fake AH crew were responsible.

So Ryan was keen to stretch his muscles.

Coopersons death had had another result for the Fakes. Many of the businesses and partners that Cooperson had collected under his Fullscreen umbrella started to fracture. Started to push their boundaries now that no upward movement within Fullscreen. The Fakes had seen a sharp decrease in several areas of their street level movement. The B-team had been reported several areas they couldn’t access anymore without issues, as spike in kidnapping of young children had cropped up one of the lower socio economic areas and instances involving gun violence had generally risen around the city. All of this was unsurprising, but frustrating for the crew. 

So; Ryan was in the suburbs, to seek out an accountant, almost interstate by the time he made his way to park beside the nearest fence.

Somebody was moving money outside of the usual channels, which is why Gavin hadn’t been able to track the competitors moving in on Fake turf yet. It didn’t take long for Trevor to create a list of likely subjects, though, and Ryan had seen one name he knew.

It was easy to get into the house, no need for tricky security cracks here, a jumped fence, befriended dog, a Stafford cross, and a snapped back-door lock later Ryan was in the house. It was clean. Spartan, even. Couch and a TV, a desk with an old PC set up, piles and piles of books on shelves behind it. No phone. No internet connection.

Perhaps why Gavin couldn’t track him, maybe. Ryan slipped one of the ledgers out of the shelf, dated earlier this month, and read it by the street light coming in through the window. It was listings of accounts, numbers, banks and amounts. Useless to Ryan, but no doubt decipherable by Gavin, or the boys at Funhaus. He put it away when he heard the garage door opening, lights flashing past the front of the house as a car swung into the drive.

He moved deeper into the house, wanting to allow the man to get somewhat comfortable. Lock his own doors, put down his things, which he did. The sound of keys hitting a bowl in the kitchen, a briefcase clacking down onto the old marble benchtop as the lights flicked on and the sound of things being pulled out of pockets. Ryan stretched his neck and rolled his shoulders a little as the man crossed into the lounge, not noticing Ryan lingering just off the hallway. The lights flicked on in there and the sound of a TV flicking on and warming up.

Ryan followed him into the lounge and stood a few paces behind the worn out couch as the news flicked on, immediately muted as a beer can hissed open. The man sinking down into the couch and letting out a sigh.

“Long day, Billy?” Ryan asked darkly, forcing his voice slightly.

Billy froze. Beer in one hand, halfway to his mouth, remote in the other. Ryan watched his breathing pick up, his pulse jump up his neck. Guy needed to have his blood pressure checked.  
Ryan moved in lieu of waiting for a reply to stand beside the couch, now well in eye line of the older accountant.

“No hello?” He pressed. “Kind of rude, Bill.”

Billy was staring at him as if he was a ghost, mouth half open, his sleepy, dark eyes on him warily, shoulders tense, as if moving would spook Ryan into action.

“How... How did you find me?” Billy breathed, dropping the remote and, carefully, placing the beer can onto the coffee table. Ryan smiled behind his mask.

“Well, someone new had to be moving money for the up and coming wanna be's.” Ryan reasoned. “And I thought, who would they go to if they wanted things ‘old school’? Who wouldn’t bat an eye at paper recordings of drug deals,” Ryan moved to stand directly in front of him, between the couch and the coffee table, “property acquisitions, laundering and – this narrowed it down – human trafficking.”

Billy stared at him, swallowing down his skinny neck.

“You’ve lost weight, Billy.” Ryan added.

“Bowel cancer.” Billy nodded mindlessly. “Trying to afford treatments.”

Ryan doubted his honesty, but nodded anyway.

“Sorry to hear that, Bill.” He said, sitting on the coffee table, moving the beer can aside. Bill was still stiff and alarmingly still. “Remember the advice I gave you last time?”

“Stay out of trouble?” Billy tried. Ryan shook his head gently.

“Not that advice.” He clarified. “About my capacity for mercy.”

“Ah.” Billy nodded slowly. “And you being at it?”

“Mmmm.” Ryan agreed. “Who’s books are you doing, Billy?”

There was a long silence in the room, Billy stared at him without blinking lone enough that his eyes started to water. Ryan could see him putting things together, trying to calculate the success of escape attempts.

“You’re going to kill me anyway.” Billy reasoned quietly.

“You’re heading that way of your own accord, apparently.” Ryan noted. “But yes, Billy. I’m going to kill you.”

“Then why should I tell you?” Billy breathed, voice starting to shake despite what appeared to by the man’s best efforts.

Ryan leaned forward, resting his elbows onto his knees, angling his head so he knew Billy could see his eyes.

“You don’t want me to answer that.” Ryan assured him.

“They’re…” Billy hesitated. “They’re going to get me treatment, James.”

“We’ve talked about the name, Billy.” Ryan warned, narrowing his eyes pointedly.

“Sorry.” Billy breathed quickly. “I… I forgot.”

“Apology accepted.” Ryan inclined his head slightly. “It’s been a long time.”

“Please…” Billy went on. “My… My daughter’s wedding is in three months.”

“Melody hates you, Billy.” Ryan pointed out.

“I’m… I’m trying.” Billy assured him. “Plea-”

“Stop it.” Ryan warned sharply, stopping Billy’s plea in its tracks. “Don’t _beg_ Billy.”

Billy went silent, growing more and more pale, looking lost.

“Who’s books are you cooking, Billy?” Ryan asked again. Billy let out a breath he seemed surprised to be holding, closing his eyes briefly to shake his head.

“Just kill me.” Billy replied, as if trying to sound firm. “Betraying my clients will not be my last act, James.”

Ryan was split between anger over the name that the man shouldn’t be using and amusement. He let out a short, harsh laugh. Billy flinched back, further into the couch cushions and looked crestfallen. As if something in Ryan’s laugh had said more than Ryan could have explained.

Yet.

“Billy.” Ryan laughed. “When the fuck did you get a spine?” he asked. “And what the fuck use is it to a man like you?”

Billy simply stared at him.

“How’s your nephew?” Ryan pressed. “Or stopped paying attention? Get too old for you?”

Billy didn’t flinch at that, but did divert his eyes away. Ryan wanted to keep pressing the cruel teasing, remarks about the wedding and new targets, but he controlled the urge. He was working.

“Who, Billy.” Ryan growled. Billy shook his head slowly.

“If you… If you let me live.” He breathed. “Please, Ja-”

“Ah!” Ryan raised a hand slightly and enjoyed watching the man jump and check the hand for weapons. “Let me clear this up for you. When I leave tonight, you’re going to be dead.” Billy stared at him, distressed. “If you tell me what I need to know now, I’ll kill you quick and clean. More than fair.” Ryan explained. “Too fair, almost. If not, then I’m going to use the knife on my belt and get creative.”

Billy continue staring, mouth open. Lost for words.

“Well, I say that, but I know exactly what I’m going to do.” Ryan admitted. “Right foot first.” Ryan nodded at said foot. “I’m going to use the point of the knife to get under your big toenail,” Ryan mined gripping a knife and pressing it forward, then twisted his hand, “then lift,” he jerk the hand back, "and pull." 

Billy flinched again and blinked a few times, tears starting to roll down his eyes. His mouth working as if to resist the overwhelming distress.

“And, Billy, I’m going to proceed in that fashion until I get what I want, or I run out of nails. Whichever happens first.”

The older man’s respiration rate was increasing again, his pulse jumping. Ryan was getting close to a stress point.

“If you’re still not feeling talkative.” Ryan continued, drawing the blade out his belt, the soft gleam of the silver metal almost glowing in the shitty ceiling light. “Then I’ve always found it particularly effective to remove the patella.” Ryan tapped his knee-cap. “Have to cut through a few tendons, obviously, easiest to start in the middle.” Ryan explained by lightly resting the tip of the knife against the middle point of the outside edge of his kneecap. “Cut down first, get the ligament severed. Takes a little sawing, but the knife is fairly sharp.” Ryan spun it in his hands to draw the mans attention back to it. “Then the whole thing can flip up. Rides up because of the quads, of course. Bleeds like crazy. But you won’t have to clean it up, will you, Billy?”

At the sound of his name Billy snapped his red eyes away from the knife, tears wet on his cheeks, to look at Ryans mask again.

“Wonder who will?” Ryan commented idly. “Your clients, Billy? I doubt they’ll get to check on you before I check on them. Your ex-wife, maybe?”

Billy didn’t respond, staring blankly now at the far wall, almost refusing to look at Ryan. He closed his eyes.

“Please, James.” He tried. “I never… I want-”

“It doesn’t matter what you want, Billy.” Ryan assured him, gently, standing. “You going to try out that spine, or are we doing this the easy way?”

Silence.

“Take off your right shoe.” Ryan told him. Billy stared up at him, not moving. “You don’t want me to take if off for you.” Ryan assured him. More silence, Billy moved slightly to look down at his shoe, and then back up to Ryan. Then his gaze went sideways and settled somewhere to Ryan’s right.

“I’ll tell you.” Billy said quietly. Ryan smiled to himself.

“Wonderful. Shoot.”

“I…” Billy’s eyes slid between his office door and back to Ryan carefully, suddenly dancing around quickly. Ryan frowned at the change in behaviour and attention. “I have a client list in my office.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow suspiciously, not that Billy could see it.

“Alright then.” He nodded slowly. “Lead the way.” He raised a hand towards the door. Billy moved forward on the couch, inching into Ryan’s space as he refused to move. He stood slowly, moving sideways and away from him at the said time, and finding his feet eventually. He backed up a few steps, Ryan following closely. Ryan watched it happen as predictably as he’d suspected. Billy took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air and slowly releasing it. He twisted away from Ryan slightly, not quite getting his back to him, and pointedly looking at the office door.

So, when the man broke into a sprint towards the nearest exit, Ryan was very prepared. He had a hand around the older man’s skinny bicep a pace later, using a boot to trip the man and put him face first into the floor. He landed a knee on his thoracic spine, winding him in the process, and wrenched the arm in his grip upwards to hold the wrist for easy access to the mans fingernails.

He didn’t wait for Billy to respond or plead or make excuses. He secured his thumb, balancing his weight easily on the struggling fifty four year old, and pressed the sharp tip of his knife under the thumbnail, sliding it in as far as he could.

Billy tensed, freezing and trying to curl away underneath him, and let out a whimpering growl of pain, sounding utterly shocked by this turn of events. Ryan twisted and pressed the nail between his gloved thumb and the knife and yanked. Hard.

It made a soft squelching sound as it came free and the pain shuddered through Billy’s body for a long moment. Ryan leaned forward slightly and dropped the nail into Billy’s restricted sight line. The man sobbed in response, choking out half words and noises, shaking down to his bones, tears streaking onto the floor. Ryan waited to a moment until Billy could pay him attention again.

“Do I need to keep going Billy?” Ryan asked, not glancing back when the smell of urine caught his nose. It happened, he didn’t need to confirm it.

“I wasn’t…” Billy choked out. “There is a list. In, in my office.”

“Great.” Ryan said brightly. “So tell me who’s new on it.”

“Eh…” Billy managed. “Elijah King. Lola Patterson…” The man shook his head. “They're the new ones…” He added in panic. “Please!”

“No other recent clients, Billy?”

“Eric… Eric Gardener.” Billy went on, voice high and tight.

“Any cops?” Ryan pressed.

“W-What? No… I don’t think so.”

“Anyone I would know?”

There was a moment of silence but for heavy breathing.

“Billy?” Ryan said slowly. “Anyone I would know?”

“N-no.” Billy assured him shakily. “You… She's not new... _You_ don’t know her.”

“Know who?”

More silence, Billy’s eyes were squeezed shut and for a long moment he was quiet.

“Don’t make it hurt.” Billy requested, tears still rolling down his face.

“That is entirely up to you.” Ryan pointed out.

“Can you tell-”

“I’m not telling anyone anything.” Ryan snarled, yanking the arms slightly to elicit a gasp of pain. “I’m dead, remember?”

Billy cried into his carpet for a moment, mumbling things to himself while Ryan sighed and rolled his eyes, shaking him slightly to remind him of the pressing time restriction.

“Ramsey.” Billy said slowly. “Griffon Ramsey.”

Ryan sighed. Well fuck. Now he had to actually go to work. He dropped the man’s hand, instantly going to his side, tucking it in as if that would help.

“Thanks, Billy.” He said as he gripped a handful of hair.

“Wait, Ja-” The plea turned into a strangled yell of surprise and pain as, in two smooth movements Ryan hauled the mans head upwards and reached down to drag the edge of his knife through his carotid arteries and throat.

Ryan left the man, gagging and struggling on the floor, in the steadily growing pool of his own blood.

Ryan found the accountants Rolodex on his desk. The old fashioned one, he took photos and sent them all to Gavin. Then he packed the ledgers into a box, leaving any that didn't concern him and only paused outside as the dog, the Stafford mix, whined at him as he passed. The dog sat next to his boots, looking up at him, licking at him as if asking for a treat. Ryan moved to walk and the dog followed him and made a sad noise. He paused. 

Ryan looked at the mutt and signed in resignation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mentioned the dog in passing and then realised he needed to keep it. So. Now there's a puppy. He cute.


	21. Ch 20 Deliveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan gets back after some hard work. A quick visit to deliver news and harass a few people.

“Need a hand?” Michael asked as Ryan tried to open the door to the penthouse with his hands full of the box of ledgers.  
“Yeah.” Ryan nodded, mask still on from the car. He turned and dropped the box into Michaels arms. The smaller man staggered slightly under the weight.  
“Fuck.” He snarled. Ryan opened the door for him.  
“Gavin needs those.” He said pointedly.  
“God you’re an ass.” Michael muttered.  
“Thanks.” Ryan smiled, knowing Michael couldn’t see it as the younger man struggled sideways through the door. He pulled his mask off as they walked into the lounge, Michael striking off to the hall where Gavin’s office was. Ryan followed him, stretching slightly from hauling the box up the elevator. He caught the glare Michael was sending him through the reflections of the pictures on the walls.  
“Delivery for you, dipshit.” Michael scowled, kicking Gavin’s door open and dropping the box on one of his desks. Gavin didn’t look around but did make an affirmative noise as Ryan followed Michael into the dimly lit room.  
“Gavin.” Michael said, louder.  
“Yeah, boi.” Gavin replied harlf-heartedly, scrolling his screen slightly, highlighting a portion of nonsensical text and altering it. He was coding something, it looked like. Ryan knew enough to make a guess at a program but didn’t really care either way. He moved forward, passed Michael and dropped a hand onto the young brit’s shoulder.  
The kid jumped and looked up at Ryan’s face, no doubt still half black from the face paint Ryan used to cover his skin around the eyes.  
“Jesus Christ Ryan.” He swore, Ryan watched his pupils dilate from the sudden rush of adrenaline.  
“Just normal Ryan will do.” Ryan laughed gently. Michael snorted, pulling out one of the ledgers and flicking through them.  
“Oh, the accountant worked out then.” Gavin said excitedly, moving out of his chair to the box.  
“Worked out for us.” Ryan confirmed. “Not for him.” Michael smiled in amusement, Gavin glanced at him with a look that said he didn’t appreciate the dark humour.  
“More than I thought there would be.” Michael admitted, rifling through the box of books.  
“He’s been an accountant for a long time.” Ryan shrugged. “When he couldn’t work legitimately anymore he turned to criminals. He’s been around for decades. He has long running clients that we’re going to have to track down and either absorb their book keeping or apologise to.”  
“Some of these numbers are high.” Gavin noted quietly, furrowing his brow at one of the books, tracing a finger over the numbers like he was already connecting things. “Like, human trafficking high.”  
“We suspected that they were taking the kids.” Michael pointed out. “Maybe that’s what it is?”  
“Possible.” Gavin frowned. “I’ll have to go through all of these accounts, though. Link them with people and such.”  
“Start with the first two names I sent you.” Ryan told him. “They’re his newest. The rest can wait for a while.” Michael dumped the book back in the box, tired of the amusement and looked up at Ryan.  
“He talk easy?” He asked.  
“Michael, not in here.” Gavin whined, already sitting down with a ledger at his keyboard. “This is my workspace.”  
Michael glared at him for a moment.  
“You’re always fucking around with my workspace.” He pointed out.  
“What? No, I don’t.” Gavin huffed.  
“Right, and that det-cord ended up under the ice cream up on Chilliad by itself.” Michael accused. Gavin turned resolutely to the computer. “Right.”  
“He made it messy.” Ryan answered after Gavin started pouting. “But it was easy. Just good to get out of the house, to be honest.”  
“Know the feeling.” Michael muttered. “I’m ready to blow some shit up.”  
“Well, then, Gavin better get a move on.” Ryan agreed, gripping Gavins shoulder. The brit waved at him, telling him he was busy. He was already absorbed in account numbers and a money trail. “I need a soda.” Ryan sighed.  
“We had some delivered yesterday.” Michael told him, shoving Gavin over so he could sit on the desk next to the computer, clearly about to embark on a busy afternoon of hacker harassment.  
“Fuck off, Michael.” Gavin muttered.  
“I’ll leave you two alone.” Ryan laughed. Gavin and Michael both answered him as he left the room, making indecipherable noises at each other until Ryan was out of ear shot of their squabbling. He headed for his caffeine source.  
“Your face paint’s running.” Geoff told him from the kitchen, pouring himself a coffee. “So, you were right, I take it?”  
“Yeah.” Ryan nodded as he approached the kitchen and leaned on the bench next to Geoff. “At the least he covered a few of them. Gavin will be able to track them now we have all the details.”  
“Good.” Geoff sighed. “Three more OD’s this week. Dunno what the fuck these guys are doing, but whatever drugs they’re selling are cut with some deadly shit.”  
“Amateurs.” Ryan shrugged.  
“We’ll deal with them soon enough.” Geoff dismissed. “Absorb or remove them, like the rest.” He almost sounded bored by it.  
“Gav think he may have covered the human trafficking angle, too.” Ryan added. Geoff made a face.  
“Good.” He said darkly. “Fucking taking kids off the streets.” He lowered his voice. “In my fucking city.” He growled to himself and moved to walk away. Ryan moved a hand slightly, holding it in front of Geoff to stop him. The man stopped and looked at him, expression on his face dark, tired and impatient.  
“What.” He pressed.  
“I left a name off the list I sent to Gavin.” He said, flicking a Rolodex card up, holding it in front of Geoffs face.  
Geoff leaned back a touch to focus on the card.  
“Fuck.” He sighed, taking the card in his free hand.  
“Thought you’d want to know.” Ryan agreed. There was a moment of contemplative silence.  
“She won’t appreciate my calling.” Geoff noted. Ryan stayed silent. “How far back do the books go?”  
“At least a few years.” Ryan supplied. “Maybe more.”  
“Shit.” Geoff muttered. “And I doubt anyone will find him for a while?”  
Ryan smirked slightly and Geoff frowned at him. “God you’re fucking creepy in that paint.”  
“That’s the point.” Ryan nodded. “No-ones going to find him for a while, Geoff.”  
More silent and thinking from Geoff. Ryan watched the wheels turning. Movement next to them when someone stepped into the kitchen out of Ryans field of view.  
“Out.” Geoff snarled. The sound stopped, turned and moved away without question. Ryan didn’t bother looking around. Geoff looked at him.  
“She’s gonna be pissed.”  
Ryan shrugged in response. He really didn’t want to get in the middle of this fight. It went back way farther than him, and it wasn’t really his place to comment either way.  
“The kid.” Geoff said after a long moment, face brightening. “The fucking thief she hired. Knew it was a good idea not to kill him.”  
“I think she hired him as a mechanic. And I still disagree with the non-killing idea.” Ryan pointed out. “What do you want to do?”  
“Talk to Dooley. Get a message to her.” Geoff said, pushing the card into his pocket. “Apologise; offer our help. Offer a trustworthy book-keeper.” He sighed. “She’ll want to talk about if she considers it. Give her my number. Either she calls me, or she doesn’t. Either way.” He shrugged.  
“Does she know Dooley is working with us?” Ryan asked.  
“I doubt it.” Geoff shrugged. “Otherwise we’d probably have heard from her. He hasn’t told her. I doubt he’s told anyone. Let’s keep it that way.”  
“Got it.” Ryan nodded. “Hey, don’t suppose you have any dog food?”  
Geoff visibly paused his thought process and looked up at him.  
“What?” He said blankly. “Ryan, you don’t have a dog.”  
“I do now.” Ryan shrugged. Geoff rolled his eyes at him and shoved passed him to walk out of the kitchen area and back towards his own office area.  
“I’ll take that as a no.” Ryan muttered to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just a quickie this time around, next chapters a fun one though! 
> 
> Love all of you! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are like heroin to me. Enable me internet.


	22. Ch 21 Don't kill the messenger...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is really just trying to work when Ryan fucks up his day. 
> 
> ... Work.

Matt leaned into the office where Jeremy was finalising the paperwork on the muscle car someone had driven to death before they’d begged him to save it. It was late, he should have been home an hour ago. But the job wouldn’t get finished until the paperwork did, so Jeremy was still here. Matt was still here because he’d been caught up finishing off a job that was being picked up tomorrow. Jeremy smiled at him without looking up.

“How goes breaking the law?” He asked.

“Great, obviously.” Matt laughed, walking over the leaning on the desk, putting the file down on the out tray, Jeremy would have to remember to put it in the glove box in the morning for the client. “You nearly done? I can give you a ride.”

“Pass.” Jeremy shook his head. “I have to catch up with all of this.” He gestured at the paperwork. “I was so behind on all these jobs and Griffon was really starting to get annoyed about it.”

“Well, she could hire another mechanic.” Matt suggested quietly.

“So she said.” Jeremy nodded. “It’s okay man, I’ve just been busy catching up.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Matt replied dryly and that made Jeremy glance up at him, catching the sour expression before Matt hid it. He frowned.

“Matt? All okay, buddy?” He asked. Matt sighed in reply.

“You’ve just been so distant lately. But you’ve had heaps of time, gone and seen your mom and stuff…” He explained. “And I know you don’t want me to ask, so I haven’t, I guess I’m just starting to miss hanging out with you.”

Jeremy felt the guilt build in his chest and he leaned back in his chair, dropping his pen.

“I’m sorry, man, it’s just…” he shook his head. There was no way to explain properly without telling him the whole story.

“Just, I’ve been working less. And there’s a guy I -”

“You’re dating someone?” Matt cut him off, surprised.

“No.” Jeremy assured him. “Just… It was once, but…”

Matt nodded as if he understood.

“But he puts bite marks on you, so you’re in love with him?” He smiled as Jeremy self-consciously touched his neck. There should be nothing there, and he sent a glare at Matt as the man giggled. Then he sighed and shrugged a little. “I just worry about you.”

“Worry, is it?” Jeremy teased, trying to lighten the mood. “Or is it horniness and jealousy?”

“You’re a dick.” Matt laughed, stepping around the desk to punch him lightly in the arm.

“You love my dick.” Jeremy agreed and they laughed even more and then Matt leaned down, moving so he was in front of Jeremy and wrapping a hand around the back of his neck.

“I do miss that too.” Matt added, leaning down and kissing him. Jeremy smiled into his mouth and replied, reaching up to pull Matt into his lap, gripping his hips hard like he knew the man liked. Matt made a noise of approval into his mouth and pressed against him harder as Jeremy dug his fingers into the taller man’s ass, his other hand massaging down on the top of his thigh, edging against his crotch. Jeremy moved a hand and gripped a handful of Matt's hair, currently half blue, and pulled gently down until their mouths separated. Matt groaned with approval and his hands pressed into Jeremy’s chest. He moved slightly grinding his crotch against belt buckle.

Jeremy chuckled at him.

“Look at you.” He said accusingly. “A minute ago you were worried about me. Now all you’re worried about is coming for me.”

Matt tried to nod slightly.

“You’re persuasive.” He moaned. “Not my fault.”

“No?” Jeremy asked, leaning forward to bite Matt’s nipple gently through his shirt. “And you hung around until we closed for, what, overtime?”

Matt whined through his nose and tried to move his head to see Jeremy again, but Jeremy increased the pressure on his scalp and the man writhed on his lap.

“So,” Jeremy used his other hand to grip around Matts groin, “ _so_ , easy to please.”

“Please…” Matt breathed. Jeremy smiled, knowing what he wanted. He let go of the mans hair, gripped under his ass and rocked forward to stand from the chair, carrying them both over to the window facing the garage floor. He let Matts ass rest on the window sill, just giving him enough purchase to stay there, but not enough to get comfortable without Jeremy holding him, and Jeremy pulled open his shirt and started attacking his chest and stomach with his mouth.

“Jeremy…” Matt breathed into his hair, his hands rubbing against Jeremy’s shoulders and hair and face until he found his chin and pulled it up so that they could kiss again, mouths meeting in a mess of heat and saliva. Matt tried to breathe.

“Jeremy, you don’t have-”

“Shut up, Matt.” Jeremy ordered, pulling him into another messy kiss, unzipping his pants and moving his clothing out of the way until he freed Matt’s cock. Matt moaned into his mouth as Jeremy squeezed down on it.

Jeremy split his concentration between maintaining the bruising kiss and running his hand up and down Matt's shaft, the man writhing in his hands and making filthy noises into his mouth. His legs squeezed against this ribs his hips arching up into his hand. Matt groaned, gripping a fistful of hair on Jeremy's head to haul him harder into him. Clinging to him like he needed him to breathe. Jeremy broke away, trying to get air, and smiled up at Matt, who was barely paying attention, before moving back slightly and leaning down to take the head of Matt's cock into his mouth and start sucking him down. Matt's fingers carding through his hair as he made a noise of approval.

There was a sudden and very close knock against the window.

Jeremy’s head was up instantly to find The Vagabond on the other side of the glass and he froze, confused and scared, and then Matt followed his gaze and snarled a few choice words, the taller man pushed away, off the window sill and into the office against the desk while he was doing up his jeans.

Jeremy, breathing hard in shock, moved forward to release the door lock to let Vagabond pull it open.

“Wait!” Matt protested as the man stepped into the office. “Shit.” He swore as the man moved into the office with a sense of purpose. Jeremy moved backwards, towards where Matt was by the desk, still recovering from his mild heart attack.

The Vagabond looked at Matt, looked at Jeremy and tilted his head in a way that Jeremy was becoming all too familiar with. He was amused. Matt froze just behind him, Jeremy could feel his hand on his shirt. Vagabond closed the door behind him and moved into the room, a few paces away. He was wearing a plain motorcycle jacket in lieu of his blue and black, as if he’d dropped by on the way home, but he was no less terrifying for that.

“Evening.” He said. Matt and Jeremy stared for a moment. Jeremy was still recovering of the shock of being actively cock blocked and was split with how the fuck he was going to explain to Matt later. Matt was probably terrified Vagabond was going to kill him.

“Hey.” Jeremy replied sharply. “Need your car fixed?”

“Cute.” Vagabond growled. He aimed his mask at Matt. “You should close up the shop.” He suggested.

“What?” Matt breathed.

“Matt.” Jeremy said. “Lock up for me?”

Matt sighed, sounding frustrated, muttered “ _What the fuck?_ ” and moved slowly around him and towards the door beyond Vagabond, skirting around the masked man. He passed the him and jolted in surprise when he was grabbed by the arm and hauled closer to him. Jeremy took a step forward in surprise, ready to come to Matt’s aid should he need to. The Vagabond shot him what felt like a glare and Jeremy forcibly relaxed his shoulders, then the hit-man looked down at Matt.

“Phone.” Vagabond growled without looking away from glaring at Jeremy to keep still. “Keys.” He let him go. Matt took a step backwards, hauling his phone and keys out of his pocket and dropped it on the desk.

“I’ll be by the car.” Matt said, looking at Jeremy, a pointed look on his face.

“Right.” Jeremy nodded, he was gonna have to deal with that later. Matt wasn’t about to let him off the hook without an explanation. Especially following getting interrupted by Los Santos’ deadliest asshole. Matt left the room and moved over towards the lockers to start the lock-up. There was silence in the office for a long moment.

“What do you want?” Jeremy asked, moving back slightly to lean against the desk, crossing his arms, shifting his hips a little to hide his only-slightly-flagging erection. He tried to keep his face placid, but his frustration must have shown.

“Am I interrupting?” Vagabond joked, moving towards him. Jeremy sighed and knew there was no way to answer that, so he simply rolled his eyes and made a point of not moving when Vagabond stepped into his space. The man reached over to pull his collar aside. Jeremy glared at him, having to look upwards and pretend that being this close wasn’t affecting his cock. He’d be the perfect height on his knees, the back of his brain noted, for the Vagabond to fuck his mouth. Jeremy tried to ignore his way-too-horny and way-too-gay brain and focus.  

“So, the twink isn’t the biter.” Vagabond concluded after a moment of silent assessment. Jeremy started, pulled from his lurid thoughts, and slapped his hand away and took half a step backwards. Vagabond had a handful of his shirt and was shoving him back against the desk a second later. Jeremy was unsurprised, but grunted in frustration and the pain of the edge of the desk digging into the small of his back.

“Settle.” Vagabond warned. “I’m here to talk.”

“Great,” Jeremy ground his teeth, “I love our talks.” Vagabond chuckled and reached behind himself. Jeremy flinched instinctively, a flash of a weapon in his brain, instantly gripping the hand fisted in his shirt with his own and rearing back a little. Vagabond paused and tugged something out of his pants slowly. Jeremy expected a knife but the man instead held up a book. Hard cover, plain blue. He dropped it on the desk next to them. Jeremy wanted to look at it but didn’t feel safe looking away from the mask inches away from his face. Close enough that they were breathing each other’s air.

“I’m not really a reader.” Jeremy admitted dryly.

“It’s one of your account ledgers.” Vagabond sighed. Jeremy wasn’t sure if he needed to be shoved against a desk for this, he shifted uncomfortably. “I got it from your book keeper.” Jeremy frowned at him in confusion. “Your boss is going to need a new accountant.” Vagabond clarified.

“What did you-” Jeremy started accusingly but stopped himself. “W-why?”

“He became… collateral.” Vagabond explained. “My boss,” he held up a business card, “wants your boss to call him.” He flicked the card onto the top of the book. Jeremy tracked the card with his eyes, frowning, suspicion running through his head, his heart thudding against his ribs. Confused as to why the Fakes had decided to take out their accountant. And why they wanted to contact Griffon.

“What for?”

“He wants to extend the offer of a trustworthy book keeper, should she want one.” He replied. Jeremy paused and thought on that for a moment, looking up at the man and deciding to push the subject.

“Collateral.” Jeremy repeated. “Of… Because of me?”

“Surprisingly, Dooley,” Vagabond stressed pointedly, “my work does _not_ revolve around you.” _Stop asking questions_ was the subtext behind the venomous reply. Jeremy found himself swallowing a little at the poison in the words and tone. Shifting slightly in the mans grip.

“Okay…” Jeremy nodded slowly. “I’ll… pass it on to Griffon.”

“Tell her the Fake AH crew apologises for any inconvenience.” He added.

“Sure.” Jeremy nodded, his mouth getting ahead of his brain, sarcasm dripping from his reply. “I’m sure she’ll be super understanding. You couldn’t _help_ murdering her accountant.”

Vagabonds grip lifted slightly, shoving him hard against the desk and upward a little, pressure under his arms from his shirt as his heels lifted off the floor. He was instantly uncomfortable, his gym sore muscles complaining and his back angled painfully.

“Urgh, fuck dude.” Jeremy snarled. “Who pissed you off today?”

“Your accountant.” The man chuckled. “But don’t worry, he had it coming.”

Jeremy stared at him, utterly terrified at the idea of the Vagabond being pissed at a guy enough to just kill him for shits and giggles.

“And what the fuck did I do to you recently?” Jeremy asked, twisting slightly and kicking up with his weight. He somehow managed to get high enough to sit on the desk, taking all the weight off of his shirt and toes in the small amount of space the hit man had left him. Vagabond paused before he responded, glancing down at him silently as Jeremy twisted himself up.

“Flexible.” He commented. “No wonder your twink friend likes you.”

“Come on, dude.” Jeremy groaned.

“My apologies.” Vagabond growled, moving in closer, standing between Jeremy’s knees. The thief leaned back a little for personal space. “Am I being _unprofessional_ again?” He asked, Jeremy glared at him, recalling his comments in the car a couple of weeks back, when he’d still been bruised and marked by Adam. “About as professional as you lifting one of your resident forgers up on a window sill to blow him in full view of the street?”

Jeremy had to admit he had him there. Damn it. Should have checked the front loading doors before getting too involved in Matt. Vagabonds thigh moved forward to touch the inside of his knee, pushing it outward slightly.

“About as professional as you still having a hard on after being cock blocked at work?” The man went on. Jeremy felt himself flush, wanting to move backwards on the desk, but the grip on his shirt prevented him. He continued to glare at the man in the mask, acting like the threat of sensation near his groin hadn’t gotten his dicks attention. Again.

“You’re an asshole.” Jeremy muttered, wondering how the fuck he kept getting into these situations.

“I just came to give you a message.” He replied, faux innocently.

“Right, because you couldn’t have called.” Jeremy snarled.

“Watch the tone.” Vagabond warned evenly. “Ramsay doesn’t want your boss to know you’re…” The man paused, tilting his head slightly. “Our errand bitch.”

If the Vagabond was trying to provoke him, it was working. He was frustrated, annoyed, confused, horny as fuck and now pissed off. Jeremy shoved at the bigger man, trying to break his grip.

“Stay.” Vagabond ordered sharply and Jeremy stopped and glared at him.

“Fuck you, man.” He growled. “It isn’t my fault you had a shit day.”

“I had a great day.” Vagabond challenged. “I got to do some work and then I had the pleasure of fucking up _your_ day. Which, considering how clear your neck is, was the high point of your week.”

Jeremy glowered, if only Vagabond knew exactly how much he’d fucked up his week, considering Adam was out of bounds now. He stayed silent, probably the smart thing to do.

“Now, be a good boy and give your boss the message.” Voice full of condescension and mirth. “And when I need someone to break into a McDonalds, I’ll call you.” Vagabond shoved him backwards, letting go of his shirt and letting him brace himself on the desk. Jeremy wanted to argue the point, remind him that he’d broken into a highly secure apartment at the top of a fucking building. But he held his tongue, knowing full well more arguments would result in more teasing or physical violence. Jeremy had had enough of both for the moment.

“Good luck getting your friend to help you out now.” The man teased as he walked back out of the office, opening and closing the door as he went.

Jeremy watched the wide shoulders of the motorcycle jacket move away, the blond hair that spilled out from under the bottom edge of the mask, and familiarity struck him like a hammer blow.

He knew that jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun duunnnnn!
> 
> Cockblocking ftw! Ryan has too much fun with his work.


	23. Ch 22. Do what you love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy is pissed about Vagabond interruption and condescension and his first instinct is to lash out. 
> 
> No-one ever accused him of being wise.

 

Jeremy realised what a phenomenally stupid idea this was about five minutes up the old elevator shaft.

Vagabond’s, Jeremy wasn’t about to start calling him _James_ , building was a upscale apartment building, doorman, security systems, coded elevators and rich, _rich_ residents.

The building itself was old, originally a hotel. Renovated five years ago to update it from offices and low rent units to ritzy, spacious apartments. The staff elevator that was originally designed for the hotel cleaners and prostitutes to pass unnoticed had long since been disconnected, walled off and forgotten about.

Luckily for Jeremy.

He’d spent a full day ignoring the world and focussing on this plan. He’d found The Vagabonds details on the paperwork he’d filled out when he’d brought in his bike. The apartment was also rented under the name James Haywood, a glaring flaw in his chosen identity. The license photo reminded Jeremy of what he looked like and he had sworn at the computer for a few minutes while being annoyed at his pretty face. There wasn’t much to the ID, he had a rental apartment, license and registered bike and car, was listed at working at some IT company Jeremy assumed was a Fake front.

For a guy that spent most of his time in recreational murder, Vagabond passed as an IT guy eerily well.

Jeremy had had to half ass an explanation to Matt and leave a note for Griffon for when she got in on Monday that they needed to talk. He hadn’t been able to focus on anything to get through that right now.

He didn’t look forward to the conversations coming over the next days.

But the worst thing was that his smart ass response of instant backlash at Vagabonds condescension had brought him halfway up an elevator shaft. It hadn’t been difficult to find his way in through the old staff entrance, worked his way into the elevator shaft via the ventilation and was now suspended on the old cabling with some of his old climbing equipment. It had taken breaking through an electronic lock, avoiding the odd security camera and then, to his chagrin, having to find a chair to get himself up into the ventilation that connected to the old elevator shaft. It had been a long time since he’d been in a ventilation shaft, but Jeremy had to admit they made life easy. Probably why they weren’t so popular anymore.

The height was nerve wracking as he passed the eighth floor, he didn’t trust gripping equipment or cables as much as he trusted his hands.

Of course Vagabond had to live on the thirteenth floor. Couldn’t be on the second floor. No. Had to be up high enough to throw him to his death when he figured this out.

He was muttering to himself by the time he got level with the ventilation on the thirteenth floor, annoyed and nervous. Asking himself why he was like this, why he had to rub the one guy in his life so intent on killing him the wrong way. Jeremy wasn’t sure if it was his great ass or his shitty attitude but either way. This was not a good idea.

But… if he got away with it… it’d feel great as fuck.

Staff elevators were not built for space, so it was only a shove to reach the edge of the brick for Jeremy to steady himself and unclip from the cable, shoving his harness into a cushioned bag and letting it drop thirteen floors to the ground, cringing from the twang that echoed down the shaft. He immediately felt more comfortable with the strain through his fingers and toes as he worked his way into the ventilation and into the ceiling of the thirteenth floor.

He went slowly, keeping an eye out for alarm systems. He wouldn’t be surprised if there was a motion sensor in the grate.

It wasn’t far, he only needed to get onto the floor, and no doubt the apartments themselves had separate air conditioning units these days.

There was no sensor visible at the grate, so he swung it open quietly after checking the hall was clear.

It wasn’t night. Jeremy had had to compromise with a time when he knew Vagabond wasn’t here. So he’d chosen just after lunch, the hallway was bright, but quiet. He gripped the edge of the shaft and lowered himself down, somehow managing to close the grate as he went, dropping to the floor gently. He’d done away with his black on black, nothing better to stand out in an apartment building than dressing like a thief. He adjusted his slim backpack onto one shoulder, straightened his shirt and moved down the hallway as if he lived here. There were only three apartments on this floor, Vagabonds of course being the big corner apartment.

His door appeared normal from initial inspection, Jeremy glanced at the camera trained on it. Or, should have been. It looked like someone had knocked it and it was looking at the roof. An ‘accident’ no doubt by the Vagabond.

He smiled to himself. Half of his job done, then. The door itself was deadlocked and had an almost hidden RFID reader. A proximity lock.

That might be a problem. If he even attempted to put something in the lock without first making the proximity reader happy, the silent alarm would no doubt trigger and Jeremy would be swimming in LSPD.

Or, more likely, Vagabond had reprogrammed it to contact him directly. Frankly, the worse of the two options.

Jeremy pulled his phone out of his bag, leaning against the door as if waiting for someone, and opened up an RFID app. RFID was far from a foolproof system. In fact, once you knew RFID was around, it wasn’t hard to spoof the right frequency with the right codes to get a sensor to read positive.

And, as millennials are so fond of pointing out, there’s an app for that.

The proximity sensor gave him no negative or positive feedback, but Jeremy let the app do its thing before using his picks to work on the lock. It was heavy, stiff, like the deadbolt had a lot of weight behind it. Probably to reduce the instance of someone smashing through it.

But, like all other locks, it eventually clicked over. Once, and then twice, withdrawing the deadbolt and unlocking the door.

Jeremy was inside and closing the door before he had much time to think about it, nerves starting to rail on his concentration. He hoped that he was right about Vagabonds movements today, or he’d be in deep, deep shit.

Jeremy froze when he realised something was moving and he held a breath when he saw a dog come around the corner into the entryway.

It was black with brown stripped patterns on him, looked like a Stafford. It was the kind of dog that, if it didn’t like him, would make a good effort at fucking him up. They looked at each other for a long, silent moment, while Jeremy tried to figure out how to proceed. He didn’t think he was fast enough to get through the nearby door and close it before the dog was hanging off his balls. Jeremy was just inside the door, in the entranceway. It stood in a doorway, watching him with a slightly tilted head and clear brown eyes. It was a fucking adorable dog.

“Hello.” Jeremy said, letting his shoulders relax and his voice soften. If it was a guard dog he’d already be barking. The fact he wasn’t meant he was a pet. The dog’s tail started wagging, the animal panting happily as if he was now sure that Jeremy was his new best friend. He approached, his tail throwing off his walk he was wagging it so hard, and he stood to put two paws on Jeremys thighs.

“Yes!” Jeremy replied, unable to stop the endorphins from bubbling over his nerves. Dogs, man. “Yes, I’m your friend.” He told the dog. “I’m here to leave a present for your daddy!”

_Nope_. Jeremy shook himself. Never referring to Vagabond as daddy again. He had enough to deal with without trying to add a fucking daddy kink into the mix. He ruffled the dog, scratching his ears and encouraging him down to the ground.

“Hey, buddy, I’m going to look around, want to come?” he asked the dog, who didn’t reply except for trying to lick him, and following him into the first room. Kitchen, clean and spacious, a four seater table set up in the corner. It opened up to the lounge, the corner windows open and bare, showing off the incredible view of the skyline against the ocean beyond. This was a nice fucking apartment. The dog again tried to encourage pats when Jeremy paused to take in the annoyingly great view and Jeremy found himself obliging. Jeremy wasn’t sure when Vagabond had decided to adopt a dog, but he’d chosen the friendliest one he could find. Jeremy had to pull himself away from tummy scratches to move on.

He found the bedroom, bathroom and second bedroom. Jeremy didn’t bother checking cupboards or looking for valuables. He really didn’t need to find something he didn’t want to see. He had no doubt there were weapons hidden around the place, possibly worse things. He didn’t need that shit on his conscience.

The TV, gaming consoles and PC were probably about the easiest things to pawn in here, but Jeremy didn’t take them. He did stop to appreciate the game catalogue on the shelf, finding a few in common with his own collection. He leaned around the TV, encouraging the dog away, and switched the HDMI cables in their inputs. Just to fuck with Vagabonds day.

He wasn’t here for thievery today.

This was about proving a point.

He went back to the kitchen, checked the fridge and found it annoyingly well stocked. Dude clearly cooked, fresh chicken and fish, veggies in the drawer, various dressings and some milk. Shit Jeremy hadn’t bought since he’d lived at home. He also found a stash of diet coke. As in, a lot of it. Enough that he clearly had either an addiction or was being sponsored by Coke to murder people.

So that’s where he left the card, pulling it out of his pocket and unfolding it, smoothing the card down so the writing was clear and legible. He selected a spot that was obvious, would be unavoidable the next time the hitman went to get a drink, leaning it against the diet coke in the fridge, unmissable if he even opened it.

He spend another ten minutes playing with the dog, giving him good pats and scratches and Jeremy was almost annoyed with how adorable the fucking thing was, before he managed to extricate himself. The dog whined as he left, puppy dog eyes at him the whole time Jeremy slowly closed the door.

Jeremy heard scratches against the wood as he locked it.

Okay, worth breaking in just to play with the dog. Getting murdered over this would be fine. He’d tell his dad about the dog in heaven.

Well… Hell, more likely.

Getting out of places is always easier than getting in. He used the resident elevator, which didn’t require ID to go down, and quietly made his way back out the back exits, retrieving his shit from the elevator shaft as he went.

By the time he was out of the building and down the street Jeremy was thrumming with excitement, smiling broadly to himself with success. The adrenaline and success was in his system deep and he was bouncing as he walked. He needed a wind down.

He got out his phone and texted Adam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to play with the puppy! I love him. 
> 
> Oh, and Jeremy you know this is coming back to haunt you...


	24. Ch 23 Discoveries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan makes it home and finds not everything is fine...

Ryan was glad to be home by the time he made it, much later than expected in the mid-afternoon. He was ready to relax and finish his run through of the new God of War game. He’d spent all day being ominous and threatening in the background of Geoff and Jack’s meetings, he needed to work out some aggression.

Benji was waiting for him by the door by the time he got through the lock, checking over his shoulder they hadn’t ‘fixed’ the camera again. Benji couldn’t wait for him to close the door, standing up to lean on him, his tail wagging and his happy panting echoing around the quiet house.

“Hey buddy.” Ryan smiled, pushing the dog off and scratching his head before continuing into the lounge, toeing off his shoes as he went. Benji followed on his heels happily. “Sorry I left you so long.” Ryan said to the animal. “We’ll go for a walk in a few minutes, ok?”

Benji didn’t reply except for tracking a circle around his feet as Ryan dropped his motorcycle jacket on the back of the couch. He checked his phone, seeing a snap from Ray that he flicked open.

Ray was sitting on what looked like an aircraft, sitting in a first class seat, looking bored as fuck. The subtitle read; “Upgraded to first class, wonder how that happened”. Ryan smiled, knowing full well that the upgrade was hardly a surprise to Ray. He sat on the edge of the couch scratching Benji’s ears as he opened a text from Michael, bitching about how Geoff wouldn’t let him buy his plastic explosive in bulk.

Benji whined at him when he stopped and walked towards the fridge, flicking through a few other texts that he’d ignored on his way out the door and home. He opened the fridge to grab a diet coke, because lord did he need the caffeine and artificial sweetener right now.

He stopped. Froze in place, phone in the hand propping the door open and the other mid-grab of the first diet coke off the rank.

Someone had been in his house.

He ignored the card for a moment, shoving his phone away and stepping away from the fridge. He moved into his bedroom, Benji not following as closely as he had been, perhaps sensing Ryan’s tension. He flung his wardrobe open and unlocked the bottom drawer with his thumbprint, letting it slide open for the few seconds it took. He bounced with irritation as he waited.

His gear was still there. His jacket and mask in place, his back-up weapons, two pistols and a collection of knives still in place. They were untouched as far as he could tell.

Not the cops, then.

Only barely relieved he moved back to the fridge, still tense through his shoulders, only realising when he moved to open the door again that he’d picked up one of his 9mm pistols. He’d even racked a round into the chamber. The gun was comforting, so he kept in in hand as he picked up the card and flipped it open to read the handwritten note left for him.

_Hey, ‘James’,_

_Remember why you didn’t kill me? It sort of sounded like you forgot yesterday. – J_

_PS: how’s your bike doing?_

“That… Little _fucking shit_.” Ryan snarled at the open fridge, now aware that Benji was standing in the doorway, as far from him as possible while keeping him in view. Ryan didn’t have the time to deal with his dog’s emotional well-being, so ignored him.

Dooley knew where he lived. Knew what he looked like. Knew, _apparently_ , how to get in and out of his place without tipping anyone’s concerns. It now didn’t matter how useful he was. It didn’t matter how much Ryan really wanted to fuck him till he screamed. Dooley was a liability.

He could feel his fingers digging into the seal of the fridge, so he stepped back and shut it. The whole fridge shook on its feet.

He knew he was angry, but he was already walking through a plan. He didn’t know where the kid would be, and he didn’t want him to know he was coming. He would need a weapon, or several, if previous experience was anything to go by. Dooley wouldn’t go down easily. Stubborn little fuck.

He needed to figure out if anyone else knew, if he’d put the information anywhere. If anyone else might figure it out. He was calling Gavin before he got back to the bedroom.

“Hey Rye.” Gavin answered. “We were just about to ca-”

“The phone.” Ryan cut him off. “Where is it?”

“Wha… What?” Gavin replied, surprised, sounding like he was on speaker. Ryan sighed through his teeth, kicking open his work drawer again.

“The phone I had to you set up.”

“The Errand Bitch phone?”

“Yes.” Ryan said. “Where is it?”

“Uh…” Gavin replied. “Gimme a second.”

“Dooley?” Geoffs voice said from behind. “Just call him, he’s probably at work.”

“I don’t want him to know I’m coming.” Ryan admitted, dropping the phone onto his bed on speaker. He checked his other pistol before loading it, racking a round into the chamber.

“Wait, what happened?” Geoff said urgently. “No, Gav, wait.”

“He broke into my place.” Ryan told him, pulling off his button down.

“What?”

“He knows who I am.” Ryan growled, pulling on his tee. “Walked into my fucking house, pet my dog and left me a note, the smartass little shit.”

“You got a dog, Ryan?” Gavin asked excitedly.

“He knows what I look like.” Ryan added darkly, ignoring Gavin, as well as said dog hovering nervously at the door. “Where is he, Gavin?”

“Uhh…” Gavin responded, Ryan heard typing.

“Ryan, wai-” Geoff started, Ryan was already shouldering on his work jacket.

“I’m going to be unavailable-”

“Ryan stop.” Geoff said sharply. Ryan paused, looking at the phone midway through doing up the zip, pausing for the benefit of his boss. “What are you going to do?”

“Honestly?” Ryan asked, picking up the phone, flicking it off speaker and holding up to his mouth. “I’m going to beat the shit out of him, tie him down to a table, take my filleting knife,” he spun a knife in his free hand, “and put holes in him until he bleeds out.” He paused. “Or drowns in his own blood. I’m not picky.”

“ _For fucks sake_.” Geoff muttered, Gavin making gagging noises in the background. There was movement, the sound of the phone being taken off speaker, Geoff now much closer. “Couple things, murder fan, first of all; you’re running out of ideas, you did that to the cleaner last month.” Ryan huffed, he didn’t have _time_ to get creative. “And secondly; we were about to call you in for tonight. We located the warehouse.”

Ryan paused, thinking back to the briefings, having to switch track from murder.

“The trafficking warehouse?”

“No; the fucking cookie warehouse, Ryan.” Geoff snarled. “Yes, the child trafficking warehouse.”

“So? You don’t want me near the kids, Geoff.” Ryan pointed out, considering how well saving kids had gone in the past. “I’ll scare the shit out of them.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” Geoff growled, shushing Gavin in the background. “We’re going to hit them simultaneously, the two kitchens and the warehouse. I want Dooley to drive for you and hit up the place in the beach area.”

“Geoff-” Ryan started.

“No, listen.” Geoff snarled. “The kitchen is in the basement of a fucking apartment building, down the street from a LSPD precinct. This needs to be surgical, we need to get them out, put them down and then get LSPD to clean it up.”

Ryan frowned at the phone, knife still in his other hand, doubts in his mind. The only people who knew the man under the mask were the core Fake AH crew. Anyone else was dead. Or wishing they were.

“Geoff…” Ryan said carefully. “I need to make sure-”

“If he was going to sell you out he wouldn’t have broken in, he would have sent the LSPD.” Geoff reasoned. “I’m telling you, he’s a Los Santos kid, he’s good with secrets. Plus, he’s not stupid enough to cross us.”

Ryan wanted to disagree, knowing full well Geoff was right, pursing his lips, still fighting the desire to find Dooley and just end him. Easiest option, really. Though, he could always let him drive and end him afterwards. It would be efficient. Ryan wouldn't have to look for him...

“Ryan, you’re being awful silent, buddy.” Geoff went on, the sound changing, as if he’d switched back to speakerphone. “Talk to me.”

“He’s a loose end, Geoff.” Ryan said firmly. “I don’t like loose ends. Especially when they’ve walked into my _space_ and-”

“I get it.” Geoff sighed, cutting his rant short. “But we basically own him now. He called me last week to say _thank you_. Just… Just try to resist murdering him?”

Ryan sighed, swearing under his breath, wondering what the hell Dooley was thanking him for, and tossing the knife at the wall. The blade stuck in the wall and wobbled momentarily, his annoyance and frustration overriding his ability to care about his walls. He had become accustomed to working with the crew, but they very rarely _really_ stopped him from doing anything he wanted to do.

“I can try.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

“That’s all I ask.” Geoff sighed.

“Uh… He’s at the Funhaus offices…” Gavin spoke up through the annoyed silence. There was a brief and confused pause.

“What, why?” Geoff asked, voice pitching up.

“How the shit would I know?” Gavin replied. “I don’t know who he even is!”

“I’m asking Ryan.” Geoff told him.

“I called _you_ to find out where he was.” Ryan pointed out.

“Is he doing a drop?”

“Not unless you told him to.” Ryan replied, considering the possible reasons he could be with the Funhaus boys. They had clashed in the past, though now technically working together. He wondered if Dooley had built a relationship with Funhaus, his immediate concern going to the thief selling information about his identity for Funhaus’ advantage.

“Not an excuse to kill him.” Geoff said quickly, catching on to Ryan’s silent thoughts. “Though… Maybe ask him about it… _After_ the job tonight.”

Ryan frowned at the thought of having to get through a whole job without letting Dooley in on his intent to… ask him a few questions.

“I’d prefer him in one piece.” Geoff added, just as quickly. Ryan rolled his eyes. “I don’t care how many pieces the meth cooks are in, if that makes you feel any better, the shit they’re making is fucking lethal.”

It did, actually, make him feel better.

“Good, so you don’t mind how much mess I make?”

“Just make sure the lab doesn’t explode,” Gavin said, “it’d bring down the building if it hits the foundations the wrong way.”

“Nothing flammable, got it.” Ryan agreed, happily thinking of ironic ways to kill meth cooks.

“Get in touch with the kid, Gavin will text you the details, and we’re hitting all of them around nine.” Geoff went on. “I don’t care how involved he is or isn’t, just try not to get him killed.”

Ryan frowned at the wall. Now he was on protection detail as well? For the thief? This was not-

“Okay, we gotta go, try and get your sulking out of your system before the job.” Geoff sighed.

“I’m not su-”

“Sure buddy.” Geoff cut him off. “Talk to you later.”

The call cut off and, a few seconds later, beeping to indicate the line was empty and then it flicked back to his home screen. Ryan tossed the phone on his bed, let out a huff of annoyance and glanced down at the weapons on his bed and his jacket over his shoulders. He had been so ready to find the kid and make it clear how things usually worked and now… He felt kind of at a loss with what to do with himself.

He picked up his phone again to call Ben. See if the kid wasn’t finished with exams yet, see if he wasn't ready to come over and be Ryans bitch for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short update, couple more of those in the bag before things start to pick up! 
> 
> Thanks all of you for your love and support, I'm sorry this chapter isn't one of my best but I wrote it on night duty so... 
> 
> LOVE


	25. Ch 24 Office work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy calls on Adam to see how he's going. Shame he caught the bus.

Jeremy made his way up through the elevator system of the almost empty business building and up to the Funhaus office before he’d even really thought this through. Seeing Adam again was a bad idea, Funhaus and the Fakes had a history of clashing heads. Jeremy did not want to get in the middle of that.

But he _did_ want to… wind down.

“Afternoon.” He smiled, leaning against the door of Adams office. It was quiet, it looked like only Adam and Bruce were here. Bruce had smiled and winked at him on the way passed.

Adam looked up from his computer, looking tired and worn out.

“You shouldn’t be here.” He said, not sounding entirely convinced.

“But I am.” Jeremy grinned, moving into the room, closing the door as he went. He was still bouncing with his left over adrenaline and success.

“You’re in a good mood.” Adam said accusingly, leaning back in his chair.

“Just finished a job.” Jeremy admitted, leaning on the desk facing Adam.

“Doing what,” Adam looked up and down at his outfit, “modelling for The GAP?” Jeremy laughed at him and Adam steadied him with a hand on his thigh.

“No, real work.” Jeremy assured him, glancing at the hand. “It went well.”

“Real work.” Adam said carefully. “With the crew?”

“Not… really…” Jeremy admitted, feeling his grin turn cheeky. Adam watched him for a long moment in silence.

“Do I want to know?” Adam asked.

“I sort of want to brag.” Jeremy admitted. “But probably not.”

Adam rolled his eyes.

“Did you come to brag?” He asked. “Or,” he moved his hand higher on Jeremy’s thigh, “something else?”

“I could’ve gone to a bar for ‘something else’.” Jeremy pointed out.

“It’s two PM.” Adam pointed out. “And you’re not at a bar. And you texted me,” Adam picked up his phone to read, “You free? I need someone in my pants.”

Jeremy couldn’t help answering that accusation with a smile. Adam moved his chair closer, his grip moving up his thigh and onto his groin, finding Jeremy’s cock already interested. He raised an eyebrow.

“And I told you I was at work and that was a bad idea.” Adam went on as Jeremy moved a little so he was directly between the man and his desk. “And here you are. Already hard, smiling at me with that fucking adorable smile.”

“I’m not adorable.” Jeremy took issue with this. “I’m just happy.”

“Happy about robbing someone.” Adam countered. “Adorable.”

“There was a puppy.” Jeremy added quietly.

“For fucks sake.” Adam growled, reaching up his other hand to fist in Jeremy’s tee and yank him down for a kiss. They broke apart a moment later as Adam breathed; “You’re too cute, it’s fucking riduc-”

Jeremy shut him up my moving in, kissing the words out of his mouth, his hands pushing the man back in his chair and moving to his chest.

“God you’re horny.” Adam managed when Jeremy ducked his head to kiss down his neck, his hands scrambling to get Adams fly undone. “What did you- oooh, fuck.” Jeremy made quick work of his pants, reminding himself that only the other day Vagabond had caught him in this exact position with Matt. He hadn’t been able to finish that job.

By god he was finishing this one.

Adam’s cock was in his mouth a few seconds later, sucking him down and pressing forward into the mans lap, Adam obviously struggling to stay quiet above him. There were hands in his hair as Jeremy knelt on the floor, leaning down into the chair to try and get most of the man into his mouth.

“ _Christ._ ” Adam breathed, his hand moving and squeezing down onto his shoulder, almost gently. Jeremy wanted to ask him to pull on his hair, get a firmer grip on his head, but now didn’t seem to be the time. He used one hand to keep his work area free of clothing and his other to stimulate what he couldn’t get with his mouth and tongue.

Jeremy shifted his angle so he could look up at Adams face, laying a long, shameless lick up the man’s cock. Adam watched down at him and made a noise somewhere between a groan of pleasure and frustration.

“You’re fucking filthy.” Adam breathed. “In… my own… goddamn office…”

Jeremy ignored the words, working harder to make Adam tense under him, make his grip get harder and his breathing uneven. “Never gonna… live this down.” Adam added.

Jeremy smiled to himself, the success in his system heightening, his desire to do well for Adam growing. Adam noticed, sinking a little in the chair, letting out a long, quiet groan and squeezing down on Jeremy’s shoulder.

“Fuck.” Adam breathed as Jeremy swallowed him down again, pushing himself as far down as he could manage, feeling his throat object to the intrusion. “Jeremy… I’m going…”

One of Adams hands found the back of his head, pressing down to hold him still as Jeremy felt the cock in his mouth pulse as he shot down his throat, the taste of Adam increasing to an almost unpleasant degree. Jeremy ignored it, swallowing down without really thinking about it, as Adam moaned out expletives above him. Jeremy stayed still for a moment, allowing Adam to ride through the orgasm in the warmth of his mouth, then he pulled away slowly, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He grinned up at Adam, flushed and slumped in the chair. His sense of victory soaring, his endorphins through the roof, his cock hard in his pants.

“You smug little shit.” Adam accused with a smile. “I’m never going to live this one down.”

“Poor baby.” Jeremy laughed, leaning back up over Adam to press a chaste kiss onto his mouth. Adam wrinkled his nose a little at the taste.

“Turn around for me?” Adam asked. Jeremy tilted his head slightly.

“You don’t-”

“C’mon.” Adam shook his head at Jeremy’s objection, encouraging him to turn. Jeremy rolled his eyes and let Adam spin him to face the desk. Then he pulled on his hips, sitting Jeremy in his lap and wrapping an arm around his chest to hold him there. It was nice, actually, the body contact warming him in a way he didn’t often get to feel.

Adam fiddled with his jeans for a moment until Jeremy undid the button and fly for him, making the man laugh into the back of his neck and shoulders.

“Impatient much?” He asked.

“I’m helping.” Jeremy argued. Adam pushed his jeans out of the way and, after an awkward moment of reshuffling clothes and positions, drew Jeremy’s hard cock free of its confines.

It instantly felt better, the contact and the freedom from the firm denim and Jeremy made an audible sigh of relief. He ran his hands over Adam’s arms where he held him, dying to feel and touch, as the man squeezed gently and started moving. It was dry for now, but his grip was soft enough to be fine, and Jeremy didn’t want to say anything because Adam was laying small kisses on the back of his neck and it felt pretty good.

After a moment Adam shifted his grip, the arm around his chest moving to reach for the drawer, not quite finding the handle to pull. Jeremy grabbed it instead for him, pulling it open and spying a small tube of lubricant next to his stapler.

“Awfully prepared in your office.” Jeremy said breathlessly.

“Are you complaining?” Adam asked, grabbing the tube and flicking the cap off and squeezing some into his other hand.

“No.” Jeremy sucked in a breath at the cool sensation of the lube against his hot skin. Adams hand wrapped around him harder and moved up and down his length with more enthusiasm. “Fuck.” Jeremy breathed.

“Cold?”

“Not for long.” Jeremy assured him, leaning one hand onto the desk for support. Adam leaned forwards with him, chest to his back, and managed to catch the edge of his trapeze muscle between his teeth. He bit only gently but the sensation of teeth against his skin made Jeremy hold his breath for a second, letting out a quiet moan.

“Feeling better?” Adam asked against his shoulder.

“Wasn’t feeling bad.” Jeremy pointed out between his breathing. “Just feeling… a million miles an hour.”

“How’re you feeling now?”

“Good.” Jeremy replied. “Great.”

Adam chuckled, his fingers pausing for a moment to flick over the head of his penis, thumb providing pressure, and then moved back into his steady rhythm.

Jeremy was not going to last long and he didn’t care. God it felt good. The fact he was doing this would theoretically piss off the Vagabond more was even better. The thrill of his break in and the exhilaration at breaking unspoken rules, getting a hand job in an office, about to ruin his best pair of jeans was incredible.

A moment later – minutes or seconds, he didn’t know – Jeremy pulled a breath into his lungs and found himself holding it.

“Adam…” He stuttered out, his lungs barely working with him, his grip on the desk and on Adams other arm increasing until his nails were white.

He didn’t know if he made a noise as he came, the world going out of focus as Adam jacked him through the orgasm.

Jeremy sat for a moment, struggling to find his breath, staring at the desk in front of him as Adam held him firm. Jeremy glanced downward a little. He groaned.

“Ruined my jeans.” He muttered. Adam chuckled again.

“That’s your own fault.” Adam accused. “That’ll be a fun drive home.”

“I caught a bus.” Jeremy admitted.

“Then I’d better find you a tissue.” Adam laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the break! I'm struggling through these next few chapters, sorry!


	26. Update

Hey all my wonderful readers. Firstly, thank you once more for tuning in to my wierd and violent brain. Secondly I'm posting this to let you know this story is going on hiatus for the next month or two.

I'm taking the time over the next few months to finish my original manuscript, it was a new years resolution that I have been procrastinating for a long time, and this story was one of the few that allowed me to procrastinate creatively. Once I have finalised my manuscript and started the submission process I will definitely be returning to Jeremy and Ryan and their exploits.

I'm sorry that you will have to wait to read more,and I hope that the many other talented writers on this site and others will keep you entertained until I return. :)

You're the best, write you soon,

Darius 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm forcing myself to work on this or I'll never finish it!! 
> 
> Still love your feedback and comments of course!


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